


Warbringer's Wife

by Offbrand_Valk



Series: Warbringer's Wife AU [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Origin Story, F/F, Fix-It, I take hammer and fix the canon, It's sylvanas wife who's trans, Trans Female Character, also a bunch of other character, by which I mean, so much nobility fuckshit, the inherent queerness of elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-09-01 12:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20258299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Offbrand_Valk/pseuds/Offbrand_Valk
Summary: Hey remember that elf lady with the baby in the Warbringers trailer?That was Sylvanas wife and daughter, and this is the incredibly overlong story of how they met, right up until the fall of Quel'Thalas





	1. Windrunner's Watch

**Author's Note:**

> So about a year ago I begun a fic with a very similar concept, however I didn't really like where it was going, so I went back to the drawing board. Then I caught a bad case of real life, but now I'm back with 30k words already written out, and plans for a full story probably somewhere in the ballpark of 120k words.
> 
> The story will be split into 4 sections, following different stages of Sylvanas life (rookie ranger, establish ranger, the 2nd war, the 3rd war). My plan is to write out a section, post the section one chapter at a time, then go on hiatus until the next session is finished.
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

"You can't be serious." Sylvanas said, indignance written across her face.

"Try again." Her mother replied, stone faced as every other time she wore her "work clothes".

"You can't be serious ranger general." The addition contained as much spite as Sylvanas thought she could safely inject into it.

"And why is that?"

"Because, ranger general, I hail from one of the greater houses, I have waited abnormally long to be assigned a village, I have excelled in every test put before me by Ranger Lord Brightwing, not to mention I have seen active combat against the Amani! I have every right to expect something more prestigious than a bunch of snotfarmers three hours on horseback from civilization."

"My apologies." Lireesa said, nothing remotely resembling regret in her voice. "I seem to have misplaced my ability to care."

Sylvanas made to say more, but her mother stopped her. "You have said your piece, now: you will accept your role as guardian of Fairbreeze Village, and you will do so to the fullest of your ability and with grace."

Nodding curtly, Sylvanas marched off, imagining her tombstone to keep her mind off her desire to challenge her mother to single combat. Here lies Sylvanas, Second Scion of House Windrunner, Daughter of the Ranger General, Guardian of Fairbreeze, Killed by boredom in the line of duty.

* * *

Fairbreeze Village wasn't what you might call an exciting village, or at least so Veline had been told. She wouldn't know, her world stopped at the Amberlight river, 25 minutes from her home.

The whole village had shown up to greet the new ranger. Some had brought flowers, others had brought food, nobody was really sure what to expect, ranger Falconmere had protected the village as long as anyone could remember. His retirement was long overdue, which only made his death to falling log all the more tragic. Veline had asked around, not that many had wanted to answer her, what she had learned was: There was supposed to be some sort of ceremony involved, Elder Cinderbloom would say a few words, the new ranger would do the same, and some people said a symbol of rangerhood would change hand? Veline wasn’t so sure about the last part, like most people she was really just happy to have an excuse to leave the farm for a bit.

The new ranger was taking her time... As far as anyone had heard, she was to arrive at noon, when the sun was at it's highest, that had been an hour ago, and people were starting to run out of food, and watching their wine intake.

Suddenly, a murmur went through the crowd, it started at the southern road then moved like a rings in the water. Veline swore she heard “Windrunner”, but that couldn’t be right, if a Windrunner was here, they were no doubt just passing through at an unfortunate time.

A tall black horse walked through the village, steering right for elder Cinderbloom’s house. Upon it sat a woman wearing a ranger cloak of emerald green, embroidered with golden thread that sparkled like the sun itself. Veline knew next to nothing about the ways of nobility, but only one house in all of Quel’Thalas wore those colors, a house that struck terror in the hearts of evildoers, and which children dreamt of serving.

The horse stopped for a moment in front of Veline, and her heart skipped a beat. She was, beyond a doubt the most beautiful woman, no concept, Veline had ever laid eyes upon. Her pale golden hair was kept short, stopping just below her neck, and trimmed at the sides, to reinforce her already sharp features to a knife’s edge. She was wearing a sleeveless gambeson underneath her coat, and upon seeing her toned arms, Veline for a moment thought someone had dressed up a marble statue. The ranger met her gaze with a flirtatious smile that revealed the slightest hint of fang, and sent Veline’s mind reeling.

Just like that, the ranger continued towards the house at the center of the village, elder Cinderbloom walked out to greet her, and Veline started to hyperventilate. There was no way this celestial beauty, this pride of Quel'Thalas could be living in her village for the next several years, there had to be some sort of law against that! Right? What about the health of her poor lovestruck heart?

* * *

Fairbreeze village was a prison sentence, that much became clear to Sylvanas from the moment the elder begun her tour of the area. The village was one of five villages atop the Aurendar hills. It had begun its’ life as a rest stop, sitting as it did like lice on the head of an infant, upon the intersection of the trade routes to Tranquillien, Silvermoon, and Sunsail anchorage. No one with any sense stopped here, for fear they might become forever lost in time, and taken by the rot that seemed to have wormed its way into every nook and cranny of the village.

"And at last we have your ranger hut lady Windrunner, I apologize that it is not up to your standards." The elder said, pointing to building smaller than Sylvanas’ bedroom at Windrunner spire.

"Your concern is appreciated, but I can assure you this will be perfectly adequate for my needs." Just because it was phrased for court did not make it untrue. How, Sylvanas had no idea, but she would make the hut her home, or die trying. When she had fought the Amani under Derithela Brightwing, she had lived in a tent with 20 other ranger apprentices for weeks at a time, compared to that, this was luxury. Sylvanas would just have to remind herself of that every time she missed a view of the ocean.

After retrieving her bags, Sylvanas untacked her horse and left it to roam free. On her way in, Sylvanas kicked open the stable door, in case of rain, or her mount simply wanting to be at its’ owners side. She then made a big show of putting her bags on the table with a sigh, hoping the elder would take it as a sign to leave her be. "Yes? Is there something else I can help you with honored elder?" She asked when subtlety failed.

The elder shifted her weight contemplatively from one foot to the other. " Ranger Falconmere… As is the nature of the job I'm told, left some tasks unfinished, and I thought you might like to be informed, the sooner that you may plan accordingly."

Sylvanas’ shoulders slumped slightly, much as she wanted to rest, she should have expected this. A ranger's duty was to take care of her village, and during her apprenticeship ranger lord Brightwing had drilled into Sylvanas that if ever there was a lull in the tasks it was cause for concern not relief. "Let's hear it then."

"Before I do that, I would like to clarify that the people of Fairbreeze village fully understand if you would like to take a few days to acclimate to the village, none of the tasks are very pressing." Sylvanas rolled her eyes when the elder wasn’t looking.

"First and foremost, a great lynx by the north-eastern cliffs has started sneaking into the chicken coop at night, we were hoping you might put it down as neither dogs nor arcane sparks seem to scare it off anymore." Sylvanas nodded, that seemed the exact sort of menial task she would spend the next however many centuries performing until her mother came around.

"Secondly, a recent thunderstorm knocked over a tree and tore a hole in the Sharpvale farm. The mother is old, the father is absent, the daughter is... a danger to herself and others with any tools not meant for kitchens or gardening, as such they would greatly appreciate your help with the restorations.“ Sylvanas expression soured, but she let the elder finish.

“Lastly, and this is perhaps more of a warning: Old Falconmere promised some of the younger kids he would tell them about the ranger order, I have no doubt they will eventually hold you to that promise."

Displeasure was written on Sylvanas’ face, foregoing any attempt at schooling her features, she spoke her mind plainly, no doubt causing sparks to fly from her grandmother's urn. "I will deal with the great lynx come nightfall. As for the rest: seeing as I'm neither carpenter nor caretaker, you will have to find someone else to solve these lesser issues."

Elder Cinderbloom's face cycled through several emotions in rapid succession. "I, I suppose that is true, very well, good day to you lady Windrunner." Sylvanas bowed curtly in farewell. In a last minute, half-hearted attempt to save face added: "And please, do inform me, should any more threats to the village arise." Elder Cinderbloom made a non-committal grunt.

Finally with some time to herself, Sylvanas felt her heart sink as she inspected her new home. A small washroom, a slightly larger bedroom, and a last “big” room meant for everything from sitting, to cooking was all she had to work with. What little furniture the previous inhabitant had left her, was a mishmash of different styles, most of which was barely held together with twine and loose parchment. One of the legs on her bed had been replaced with a jar of pickles, a hole in her sink had been plugged with a cork, and the rope around her table, which at first she had thought to be some misguided attempt at interior design, turned out to be the only thing holding it together.

It was fine, Sylvanas could work with it. A new coat of paint, a proper dining table, some accessories, and it would be as good as new. Nothing out of the ordinary when moving into an old house she told herself.

Sylvanas had packed light, mostly practical clothes and personal effects as she had been assured her hut would have all the bare necessities, which she begrudgingly admitted to being the case. The only things she bothered to unpack at first were: the single suit of formal clothing she had brought, should the opportunity present itself, the Kaldorei brewing equipment Alleria had gifted her, and of course, her arms and armor. From her belt pouch she withdrew two metal disks, gifts from Alleria and Vereesa, she put them on the floor a fair distance apart and spoke the words of activation. Mana released from both disks, and slowly a weapon rack, and an armor stand were conjured into her home.

For her training she had needed to familiarize herself with multiple weapons, perfectionist that she was, Sylvanas had trained with every single one, and she would be damned if she didn't put that feat on display. Two shortswords, two daggers, a longsword, a spear, a longbow, a shortbow, a quiver full of arrow, and a shield all went up on the wall opposite the front door so it was the first thing a visitor would see. Next to the weapons she hung her armor. Brigandine, pauldrons, bracers, greaves, gorget and helmet were all placed on a mannequin, the gambeson was simply placed on a hook so she would not need to disassemble the entire suit to get at it. For the sake of aesthetics she also hung her ranger cloak over the mannequin, giving the hut its’ own inanimate guardian.

Sylvanas ate a simple dinner and awaited nightfall eagerly. When it came Sylvanas grabbed her shortbow, quiver, and a dagger off the wall, and put on her ranger cloak, but forwent gambeson to enjoy the warm night air.

Letting pride tint her steps, Sylvanas went out to hunt a great lynx, on her first mission as a true ranger.

Fairbreeze village looked much more welcoming under cover of darkness, without the horde of people swarming around her. It wasn't very different from Windrunner village, if you ignored the overall more ramshackle and decaying feel. A few houses arranged in a circle made for the city center, this was where the flightmaster, the elder, the blacksmith, and the other non-farmers lived. Around the village was mostly forest, with fields tilled inside clearings, and farms build in the shadows only where the trees would permit. It all seemed a bit novel to Sylvanas; further south much of the forest had been felled to increase yield, the same was the case closer to Silvermoon, but here in the midlands you lived the old ways, you didn't shape nature, nature shaped you.

Sylvanas found it oddly pleasant though; a relief from a high society that would rather starve than muddy their boots. She wasn't about to take up druidism, but Fairbreeze wasn't without it's charms. She could see herself living here and not hating it.

Without meaning to, Sylvanas found herself singing as she walked towards the north-eastern edge of the village. She would have to stop once she came closer, unless she wanted to return again the next night, until then it made the night brighter.

Against expectation the lynx turned out to be very easy to track down. It was gleefully pawing at the chicken coop, to the sound of terrified clucking, at the second farm Sylvanas checked.

It was also a lot bigger than expected, looking more like a nightsaber than an oversized cat.

Sylvanas nocked an arrow, and readied two more, then whistled loudly as ranger lord Brightwing had taught her.

When the lynx turned around to face her she let fly, hitting it right through the left eye at an outwards angle.

When it kept standing, Sylvanas loosened twice more in rapid succession. One cut a long shallow gash across the top of its skull, the other buried itself in the beast's right front calve.

Then the lynx charged.

In three quick steps it was back over the fence and leaping at Sylvanas who fumbled with drawing her dagger.

Being just a little to slow, she was forced to choose between her bow and her life, and with a heavy heart, she swung against the lynx's skull, splitting the bow in half with a loud crack.

The lynx fell on its side, and Sylvanas quickly put some space between them while unsheathing her dagger.

Crouching low, with the dagger in a reverse grip in front of her, she and the lynx circled each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

Sylvanas placed her free hand behind her back. She wasn't half the mage Vereesa was, but she knew her wildfire bombs well enough.

The lynx took a step forward, Sylvanas conjured wildfire, the lynx made ready to pounce, Sylvanas cast her spell. It struck true, singing fur and burning flesh, but the beast was already in the air.

Had it not been for the arrow in its calve, that would have been the end of Sylvanas Windrunner. The lynx swiped at her throat. Unable to lift its paw very far, it only managed to inflict three deep, symmetrical slashes on her shoulder.

Having a thrashing, blood-crazed, 40 kilo lynx with half it's face burned off on top of you was a terrifying experience.

Sylvanas kept her cool, dodging and weaving as best she could while looking for the moment to strike.

The lynx bit down at her skull, and she dodged left, in the same moment it lifted it's right paw to swipe at her, and there was her opening!

She twirled the dagger into a sword grip, and plunged it into the lynx side.

Using the momentum, she pushed herself and the lynx over, reversing their position.

Avoiding the lynx's flailing as best she could, she grabbed the dagger with both hands, stabbed the dagger through the lynx's neck, carving the throat open until the beast stopped moving.

Sylvanas shakily got to her feet and cleaned the dagger on a patch of grass. Next she inspected her wounds, they hurt like hell but she was decently certain she had at another 5-10 minutes before she passed out from blood loss, so that was great. A bandage and some half-remembered healing spell would have to do the job until she could get home and make a poultice.

Lastly she picked up her bow off the ground, it was shattered beyond repair, so she threw it aside for the forest to reclaim it. Looking at the lynx corpse she declared: "For that, I'm making you a blanket."

When Sylvanas returned home it was still night, technically. Between the wounded shoulder, and the lynx carcass on her back she had made a sluggish pace, and as if to add insult to very literal injury, she had gotten lost along the way. She swore she could feel dawn lurking just beyond the horizon, as her small hut of birch and ashwood came into view.

Sylvanas unceremoniously dumped the corpse on her front porch. "to dry out, or remove rigor mortis, or something." She told herself as she shut the door behind her. Her bloody shirt and mud-soaked cloak went into the wash bowl, gleefully empty of water that it was. The rest of her clothes, including her dagger, tumbled to the floor on her way to the bedroom. Here she threw herself between the sheets, naked as the day she was born, and waited for sleep to claim her.

Just as expected, the sun chose that exact moment to climb lazily into view, and stretch its rays on her face, like a cat all too aware it was being a nuisance. Of course, some genius had decided that what her bedroom really needed were huge, east-facing windows to really let her soak in the light of dawn. Sylvanas in that moment had never been more prepared to fight a celestial body, though she ultimately had to settle for closing the blinds.

* * *

Moments later, Sylvanas' sleep was rudely interrupted by a knock on her door.

"The Amani better be laying siege to Silvermoon for you to wake me this early." She yelled into empty space as she stomped towards the front door, to see who had the audacity.

What she found was the most adorable creature Sylvanas had seen in a long time. A woman, roughly her own age, with flat, grayish-black hair, and wearing a dress that didn't quite reach her ankles. A soft blush spread across her round cheeks reaching all the way to her ears, as she not-so-subtly looked Sylvanas up and down. Sylvanas smirked recognizing the girl that had gazed at her like the sun when she first arrived, this was definitely worth waking up to. Whatever the peasant girl was here for, could wait until after Sylvanas had given her one or two, or maybe five, earth shattering orgasms.

"It's uhm, after midday, and you are, uhm, very naked." Sylvanas mentally facepalmed. The girl was either a prude, or very inexperienced in flirting, either way, Sylvanas' chance of going back to bed with a cute girl in tow, had just been diminished.

"So I am, now what can I do for you?" The girl giggled nervously as Sylvanas leaned much further into her personal space than was considered polite.

"Well I, you, uhm, your shoulder is bleeding." Sylvanas looked down, and sure enough her bandage had gotten lose, and a steady stream of blood was trickling down her arm.

Right, that poultice she was supposed to make when she got home. "My apologies, give me a few minutes and I will take care of this". Sylvanas said and slammed the door shut before her reputation was further injured. Had she been more awake and invigorated, she could have no doubt turned her injury into an excuse for flirting, as it stood she first had to ensure she wouldn’t suffer lasting damage.

The promised few minutes turned into an hour. Sylvanas’ inaction meant that a simple healing poultice wouldn’t be enough, she also had drink a truly vile slurry to replenish her lost blood, and a foul smelling tea to combat the infection.

Sylvanas went back to bed annoyed and dissatisfied, the shy peasant girl having left long ago. When next she left it, it was evening, and she took out her aggression skinning and butchering the lynx. The stew she made from its meat was slimy and bland, it was anger more than hunger that made Sylvanas finish it.

The following afternoon, the woman returned to darken Sylvanas' door. This time Sylvanas was healing and ready to receive her. "How can I be of service today lovely one?" She asked, leaning casually against the door frame to show off her fresh scars, and wearing naught but a pair of short breeches and a domineeringly sultry smile.

The woman took a deep breath, trying to keep her ears from standing upright from excitement Sylvanas guessed. "My name is Veline Sharpvale." Another interesting start if she was trying to flirt. "And you are Sylvanas Windrunner, our new ranger... But you already knew that." Her ears dropped, as Sylvanas contemplated the fine line between adorably and annoyingly shy.

Veline took another deep breath, focusing her eyes on anything but Sylvanas’ muscular chest by the looks of it. “I, you. That is to say, Ranger Falconmere... There was a thunderstorm, and a tree fell through our roof and he." The last bit came out in a pained whisper Sylvanas had to strain to hear. "promisedthatyouwouldhelp."

Before Sylvanas even had time to process what she had been told, Veline turned around and ran back down the path away from the hut, muttering a sorry with hitched breath as she did so. Halfway down the path, and almost out of sight, she stopped, stomped her feet, and marched back to Sylvanas with a tightened face. Sylvanas smiled bemused at Veline as she returned with determined steps. "Hello lady Windrunner, my name is Veline Sharpvale. My mother's farm has suffered severe damages, and we request your aid as our ranger in repairing it."

Now it was time for Sylvanas’ face to tighten, she enjoyed the little elf, she would enjoy corrupting her virtue even more, but to expect that she would lower herself to play farmhand for peasants, that was a step too far. "I am a ranger not a carpenter, for threats to Quel'Thalas you ask the former, for house repairs you hire the latter. Am I clear?"

Veline looked at her in stunned silence, mouth slightly agape, and a tear forming at the edge of her eye. Much as Sylvanas didn’t want to disappoint pretty girls, she had drawn a line in the sand, and crossing it would set a dangerous precedent. Nodding her agreement, Veline turned around as if through a thick fog, and walked away into the forest with slumped back.

As if per agreement, Veline returned again on the third day, this time she was carrying a basket full of bread and pastries. "Hello Veline." Sylvanas smiled broadly as she opened the door, happy to see her charm was just as strong in the midlands as it was in Silvermoon and the south.

"Ranger Windrunner." Veline answered politely, and reached the basket towards Sylvanas, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I talked to my mother, and she said thought you might not yet feel welcome in the village, so I made you this gift."

Not wanting to seem rude, Sylvanas grabbed a pastry at random, and took a cautious bite. It was good, much better than Sylvanas had ever had outside the court of the Sun. Looking at Veline's expectant face, she realized it was not a flirt, but a bribe. "These are very delicious Veline, though they do not change my position: until such a time that the roof over your head gains sentience and attacks the village, it is none of my concern."

Veline looked like she'd had all the air knocked out of her. which gave Sylvanas the strangest stomach ache. "Okay.“ She stammered and choked. ”But I'm taking my bread with me." She tried to look indignant as she walked off, but failed to school her ears dropping straight down.

For several days Sylvanas heard nothing from Veline, nor any other villagers, not even elder Cinderbloom. Sylvanas used the time to heal her shoulder and tan her lynx hide. Deep down, she was going stir crazy, having never been one to sit on her hands, and especially not without friends to keep her company. Each morning she woke up, the walls felt a little tighter.

By the end of her first week, her captain, Vassarin Dawnstar, came by to welcome her. He was a tall but spindly man, bearing more than a passing resemblance to a spider, and with a posture more suited for letter writing than combat. He was gone again before Sylvanas could form an opinion of him, other than what she had learned before arriving at Fairbreeze: He was the disgraced younger brother of Dar’Khan Drathir one of the seven convocants of Silvermoon who advised the Sun-King, and he had been made captain of the Aurendar lodge to keep him out of the courts.

All in all, ranger life was turning out to be nowhere near as glorious as Sylvanas had imagined. Most of her time was spent on her couch with a book, staring at her front door and waiting for disaster to strike. She only really left the house for her daily patrols, or to buy food from the nearby farms, usually she did both at the same time.

About a month into living in Fairbreeze, Sylvanas had finally managed to establish a routine, going so far as to even exchange a few courteous letters with the other rangers of her lodge.

One morning she was awoken to the sound of rummaging in her main room, when she went to investigate, she found Veline washing her windows. An insistent cough made her turn around and look at Sylvanas like a deer caught in the light of lantern, tears just about ready to burst out. "I was just... out for a walk. When I… I saw your windows and thought... you might like to have them cleaned."

"Do you often go for long walks in the morning, and find yourself cleaning the windows of acquaintances?" She couldn't quite keep the suspicion out of her voice, even though she could tell Veline was in distress.

"It calms me, I know it's stupid but cleaning is something I know how to do... It makes me feel useful for once."

Sylvanas pushed the suspicion to the back of her head, and reached out a hand, Veline held on to it like a lifeline. "You're not useless you silly dove." Sylvanas gave her hand a gentle squeeze, wishing she knew her better, so she had something to compliment.

"Am too." Veline replied, insistently.

Sylvanas placed a hand on Veline’s chin, and moved her face up so she could look into her eyes red from tears. “Tell me what ails you starlight.”

Veline whimpered and rested her face in the crook of Sylvanas hand. “It’s stupid.”

Seeing Veline like this, it pained her, women being angry at her, that was nothing new, but this? In front of her stood this beautiful, yet fragile creature, nearly shattering over some unjust weight put upon her. “Tell me what it is, please, I promise I will do all I can to better it.”

Veline blew her nose loudly in her apron. “You, you already said you wouldn’t, that it wasn’t your matter to resolve.”

Something inside of Sylvanas broke, tumbling to the ground, never to be repaired again. “Is this about the roof?” She cautiously asked, surely it couldn’t be, surely that would have been fixed weeks ago.

“Yes.” Veline whimpered, pulling away, expecting another burst of anger from Sylvanas.

Sylvanas was angry at herself. Most peasants survived by the narrowest of margins, materials were cheap, workers were expensive, Sylvanas had been taught all of that before she reached adolescence. Yet here she was, spoiled little Windrunner, playing at being a Ranger, while Veline and her mother had slept without roof over their heads for Sun knew how long.

“Lady Windrunner, are you crying?” Veline touched her face, her hands were cold, yet oh so warm.

“I” Sylvanas stammered. “I haven’t been a very good ranger have I?” Veline pulled away, Sylvanas using all her mental fortitude not to follow. Before Veline could decide what she wanted to say, Sylvvanas spoke again, her voice clear despite the tears. “I have been nothing but careless and arrogant towards you, and I will do better. I can’t tell you how quickly I can have your farm repaired, but until then please take my home for your own.”

Veline looked in shock and confusion. “Lady Windrunner, we couldn’t, well maybe mother could to help with her sickness, but there’s no reason you would need to house us both.”

“Nonsense! I have a big bed and a couch. If it’s privacy you require, I have a bedroll and a stable I can sleep in.” Sylvanas’ mind was made up, and no amount of pleading or appeal to reason could change it.

* * *

The children of Fairbreeze village crowded around Sylvanas, she recognized at best half their faces, though each and everyone behaved as if they knew her personally. In Windrunner village, such insolence from peasants would have carried flogging and fines for their families, in Fairbreeze it was just the way children spoke.

Sylvanas took the seat prepared for her in the middle of the village square, allowing the children to sit on the soft grass in a crescent around her. She got this uncanny feeling that she should have brought a book, not cause she needed it, but because that was what the seat was made for.

"Settle down little ones." Sylvanas said, in what she hoped was a confident and paternal voice. Children scared her more than blood crazed lynxes and Amani warbears. Most did as instructed, the rest followed suit after some insistent glaring from elder Cinderbloom.

"Very well. From the beginning shall we?" A few of the children nodded in agreement, should Sylvanas have made it more clear it was a hypothetical question?

"Before someone can become a ranger, they first must pass their apprenticeship under a ranger lord." A child's hand shot up. "Yes, what is it?" the girl uhm'ed and ah'ed for several infuriating moments. "Who was your ranger lord?"

"I was trained by her ladyship, ranger lord Derithela Brightwing, guardian of Greater Tranquillien. Are there any more questions or may I continue?" No hands were raised, Sylvanas nodded her approval.

"Once your ranger lord deems you worthy, you are assigned a village to protect and live in, for me that's Fairbreeze. All rangers are members of a lodge, mine is the Aurendar lodge, and each lodge is led by a ranger captain. Unlike what the stories tell: ranger captains are not the greatest fighters, but the greatest leaders." A lie, but a white lie, in truth it was largely a matter of house and intrigue who got the title.

"Each lodge is part of one of the seven conclaves, each conclave is led by a ranger lord. We are in the Goldenbough conclave, which is under the protection of Areiel Feathermoon, and they are as old as Quel’Thalas." Sylvanas paused for a second, but couldn't help herself, and with a grin finished her explanation. "The ranger lords only answer to the ranger general, Lireesa Windrunner, my mother."

Most of the children ooh’ed and ah’ed, though one of them, a girl a bit older than the rest, raised her hand in question. "What about the Farstriders?" Sylvanas heart sank in her chest from seeing the girl’s excitement. Sylvanas knew what she was expected to say, had read the same stories as every other adventurous child in Quel’Thalas. Unlike other children however, Sylvanas had grown up in the home of the Ranger General and knew all too well what the Farstrider's really did.

"They are a special group of rangers, instead of having land to protect, they protect all of Quel'Thalas by traveling far away and helping other people defeat enemies they cannot defeat on their own." Lying to children felt terrible, and Sylvanas could feel her stomach churn, even as the girl’s face lit up in excitement.


	2. Cinderbloom's Scion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woooh! Chapter 2 is out, and right on time even!
> 
> This is the part where we start actually getting a plot, also Sylvanas nearly gets herself killed again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: for mentions of transphobia and mentions of child abuse

"Yep, that sure is a hole." Sylvanas said, feeling embarrassed by how clueless she must’ve seemed.

"It sure is." Veline nodded in agreement, having even less of an idea how to approach the issue than Sylvanas.

Sylvanas scratched her chin with the tip of a quill, leaving little stripes like a poorly trimmed beard. "We probably need to cover it with something." Veline suggested helpfully.

"Perhaps even attach that something with nails." Sylvanas could build a shelter with her eyes closed and both her hands tied behind her back (she had tried), but repairing something meant to last generations, that was a different matter entirely, and she was trying her best not to let it get to her.

"Oh I got those right here!" Veline rummaged for a second before pulling out a bucket of what was very clearly screws. She then proceeded to step on the hem of her dress, stumble forward, and drop them all over the floor. Sylvanas caught her around the waist as she fell, and smiled as she effortlessly spun Veline into an impromptu dance move and landed her on her feet.

“Wow.” Veline’s breath was staggered, and her face was beet red. She squinted at the mess she had left on the floor. "Please tell me I at least got the right gizmo."

Sylvanas grinned. "Nope, but you were close."

"What? But they even have the little flat bit that you hit with the hammer!" Veline blew up her cheeks angrily, as if pouting would somehow change their purpose.

"They also have this groove here meant to fit a screwdriver." Sylvanas gestured to a screw, suddenly understanding why Veline hadn’t dared going at it on her own.

"Screwdriver?" Veline asked, fear and confusion written across her face.

Sylvanas couldn’t help but laugh, which made Veline blow up her cheeks, though from her ears, Sylvanas could tell it was all in good fun. “How about I focus on the repair work, and you focus on what’s for lunch?”

That was much more to Veline’s liking, and she happily skipped into the kitchen, leaving Sylvanas to clean up the bucket of screws she’d dropped.

Sylvanas spent the next few hours climbing across the roof, trying to figure out exactly how it all held together. It wouldn’t be enough just to attach some planks, she would need to replace parts of the frame.

Veline popped her head out of a window and looked up at Sylvanas who was contemplating the board she had carefully measured twice, yet remained several centimeters too short for its purpose. "Can I ask a stupid question?"

Sylvanas’ instincts took over"Better than anyone I know." she quickly spun around, apologizing in slight panic. "Sorry, sorry - I have two sisters and I'm bad at talking to pretty girls." The last part was a lie, Sylvanas last 12 partners could attest to as much.

"Oh, okay." The flirt went right over Veline’s head. "I was just wondering, I know it's stupid, I just thought... Well aren't Windrunner's supposed to, you know?" Veline gestured vaguely which didn't help Sylvanas narrow down what she meant in the slightest.

Sensing her confusion Veline tried to explain what she meant again, this time with wider arm gestures. "You know?"

"Dignified? Heroic? The picture of elven grace and sophistication? Stuck up like the sun itself?" Sylvanas helpfully suggested.

"Nowhere near Fairbreeze village." Veline yelped at her own forwardness.

"On that we can agree." Sylvanas solemnly sat herself down and let her legs dangle over the edge of the roof. "My older sister is a ranger as well, and she got a cozy village by Sunsail. She spent half her days lounging on the beach, the other half fighting murlocs.“

Veline climbed out the window, and sat down on the grass to listen intently to Sylvanas’ words, lunch already forgotten on the stove. “Within a few years she was under consideration for the Farstriders, and now she travels the Kingdoms and beyond, having all manner of adventures. For me however my mom-" Sylvanas stopped for a second, feeling every etiquette teacher she'd ever had breathing down her neck.

"Suffice to say, that me and my mother cannot always reach an agreement, though I understand her position and am making the best of my position."

Veline blinked twice, unused as she was to the roundabout talk of high nobility. "That's okay, me and my mom fight sometimes as well. She always says I should go to Tranquillien and become a maid, but I like it just fine where I grew up." The smile she sent Sylvanas could melt glaciers, and for a moment Sylvanas felt her grip on the roof slipping. Sylvanas needed to get Veline in her bed already.

"I will admit, Fairbreeze is not without it's charm." Sylvanas said, staring directly at Veline.

"Ooh, such as?"

"You." Sylvanas sent her a fanged grin, making Veline's face turn beetroot red.

"Wow, would you look at that, I think, my uhm, salad is burning." Veline laughed nervously and hurried back through the window. A loud thunk, which Sylvanas assumed was Veline hitting the floor, prefaced her yelling: "Talktoyouatlunch" and slamming the shutters closed.

"Might I perhaps ask a stupid question as well?" Sylvanas said, in between mouthfuls of venison and mushrooms, another example of Veline’s remarkable cooking.

"Shoot."

"In the brief time we’ve known each other, you’ve spoken often and highly of your mother. What little of her companionship I have enjoyed, she seems to live up to the praise. Though I can’t help but ask: did you have other parents, or has it always just been the two of you."

Veline's ears fell and she absentmindedly dragged her fork across a flatbread. Sylvanas was quick to reach out and squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry, you do not have to answer if it's painful.“ Though the curiosity would slowly kill Sylvanas.

The fork went through the flatbread, scraping loudly against porcelain. "There was another. My father. He is not in my life any more, he hasn't been for over a century. Mother said he was once a good man; a traveling merchant with his golden heart on his sleeve she called him, I don’t remember much of that time.“

Sylvanas lifted her chair and moved it next to Veline, it wasn’t the first time a paramour had poured her heart out to Sylvanas, it likely wouldn’t be the last either, though normally she’d have at least seen them undressed beforehand.

“Then some nobles, I think house Skycaller began sending caravanas along the same routes he took, and somehow that lead him along the road to Trueborn philosophy." Veline bit her tongue and squeezed down on Sylvanas’ hand hard. "Minn’da made it clear what she thought of his philosophy after the first time he hit me."

Sylvanas stared dumbfounded into space, she had thought the very notion of assigned at birth genders dead generations ago, and to think at least one Trueborn believer was still alive, and had been so brazen as to harm his own daughter over that kind of madness. The thought chilled Sylvanas blood.

"Do you know where he is now?" Sylvanas asked, steel coating her voice. If she did, Sylvanas was sure a letter from a ranger and a Windrunner, revealing his opinions of 1/3rd of all elves, could make his life very unpleasant. If not, Sylvanas’ had a sister in the Farstriders and a lot of friends in murderer’s row.

Veline was so relieved to have talked about her father, that she spoke without thinking. "Oh yeah, mom buried him beneath the old apple tree.“ Veline gasped and threw her hands in front of her mouth. ”I probably shouldn't have said that to a ranger should i?" Veline mumbled into her hands.

"Don't worry lady Sharpvale, I will take your secret to my urn."

"Well it's not really that much of a secret, I think with you everyone in Fairbreeze knows what happened; which may have something to do with why we don't have any friends – who want's to visit the murderer and her daughter.“

“You have me.” Sylvanas gently bumped Veline’s shoulder.

Isolated farming villages were really something.

As they were cleaning up from lunch, a villager came running up to the farm and started frantically hammering on the door. "Ranger Windrunner! Ranger Windrunner! Please be in there!"

Sylvanas sword was in her hand in an instant. "What happened?" She asked as she flung the door open to the adolescent elf girl with pale brown hair.

"The village center." She stopped to gasp for breath. "There’s fighting. knives has been drawn. Please. You have to stop them." Sylvanas took off running fast as her legs could carry her.

Sylvanas reached the village center not a minute later. She found three elves wrestling over some small stone artifact, with elder Cinderbloom simultaneously restraining and tending to the wounds of a fourth. One was dressed in courier clothes, another Sylvanas recognized as the flightmaster, the last two were local farmers Sylvanas couldn’t tie names to.

Sylvanas kept picking up speed, running straight towards the biggest of the gang. Three steps before she collided with her target, she launched herself into a flying drop kick. He fell against the hard cobblestone while Sylvanas landed gracefully on her feet, sword at the ready. It was a move she had practiced extensively on Alleria.

"Now" Sylvanas said, flicking her hair dramatically. "I'm sure we can come to an agreement we will all find to our liking." The courier bit down on the farmer's hand and was punched in the groin for their troubles.

"Right, I tried being nice." Sylvanas shrugged, and surged forward, kicking the farmer’s head into the courier’s, and snatched the artifact out of the air as they both fell to the floor. Keeping one eye and her sword on the downed fighters, Sylvanas studied the object in her hand.

It was a teardrop shaped amulet, carved from black and grey gneiss, with what to Sylvanas’ untrained eye looked to be a polished block of turquoise amber at the rounded end. It had no discernible creator’s mark, nor means to attach to a cloak or chain, though the tip was sharp enough to puncture flesh. Sylvanas concluded it was either the work of some misguided amateur jeweler, or a creative experiment discarded in its’ infancy.

Sylvanas whistled loudly to attract attention to herself, not that the four fighter’s eyes had moved from the amulet. "I'm going to try again, and this time you will behave like adults: Someone explain to me the importance of this trinket." The farmer's started another brawl to answer her.

"It's a family heirloom!" One said.

"Yes from my family!" Another added.

"Liar, it's been in my family for five generations!" The third yelled, and the fourth tried to say something, but their injuries kept it from being comprehensible.

Sylvanas looked with pleading eyes to Cinderbloom. "I've never seen it before." She looked every bit as confused as Sylvanas felt.

"Well that settles it." Sylvanas said, moving the amulet out of sight, and began walking towards the Amberlight river, to the screams of all four combatants. They all began sobbing like mad, when Sylvanas left the village center, rolling around on the floor as if they were in indescribable pain. Sylvanas paid no mind to their theatrics until she reached the riverbank. “Last chance!” She yelled over her shoulder, holding the amulet in a throwing stance. When no useful answer came her way, she threw the amulet far as she could into the river. Like a drowning elf threading water, the amulet bobbed for a while before slowly sinking to the bottom.

Returning to the village center, she found the combatant confused but disentangled, none of them seemingly aware of what they had just been part of. Sylvanas let all of them go with a warning and a fine of 20 copper pieces to be paid within a ten-day, for disturbing the peace. The courier was hung up about losing an important package for ranger captain Dawnstar in the confusion, Sylvanas helpfully suggested they use that as an opportunity to discuss safe handling of magical cargo with the postmaster’s guild.

"What made you realize the artifact was enchanted?" Elder Cinderbloom asked when things had calmed down a bit, and the injured farmer had been sent home with a poultice on his wound.

"Lucky guess." It wasn't technically a lie, just rearranging the truth to make her look less like a petulant child, angry that her playtime was interrupted.

“Who would have done such a thing?”

Sylvanas shrugged, having seen similar things play out near daily in the streets Silvermoon. “In all likelihood a magister trying to conceal their misdeed. Perhaps they put it with the academy’s mail hoping it would end in a remote corner of Quel’Thalas before it was discovered, if that’s the case, I would say they succeeded.”

“So you aren’t going to investigate?” Elder Cinderbloom, recalling last month’s conversations, left as little politeness in her voice as she could get away with as low nobility speaking to a Windrunner in a formal capacity.

“I will see what I can find, though I don’t have much to go by, and if an academy is involved, nothing I can say will make them reveal the research of their magisters.”

Elder Cinderbloom nodded. “My house is one of mages, I am all too familiar with the incessant fear of academic espionage.”

The rest of the day Sylvanas spent trying to piece together the story of the strange amulet, and somehow came up with less than she had started with. The only ones who had seen the fight begin had been those involved, and they could recall nothing from the last half hour before the fight. Furthermore, and Sylvanas could scant believe it possible, the postmaster’s guild turned out to be even more secretive than the academies, the courier would offer her no names, no addresses, only that an important package for captain Dawnstar had gone missing, which had been admitted in a moment of weakness. While Sylvanas couldn’t rule out that the package was somehow involved, perhaps the target of a heist for which the artifact provided a distraction, she had been unable to get a message to him all day. Something elder Cinderbloom informed her was par for the course, as the captain would often make himself unavailable for days at a time without giving a reason. Something which would only be permissible in a region with as little interest to Silvermoon as the Aurendar hills.

Sylvanas came home after nightfall, shoved a piece of bread in her mouth and collapsed on to the couch with a groan. There was nothing Sylvanas hated more than a problem she couldn’t solve, and her mind was still trying to put what few pieces she had together in a way to form a breakthrough even as she was carried off to sleep. A small, insidious part of her mind wanted to kick Veline and her mother out of her bed so she could sleep comfortably for the first time in days.

Sylvanas was on the edge of deep sleep when someone knocked on her door. "We're closed come come back in the morning." She yelled into her pillow.

"Not when there's a rampaging water elemental on the loose you're not!" A coarse yet feminine voice called back.

That woke Sylvanas up like a bucket of ice water and a hearty meal. "Did you say rampaging elemental?" She was already strapping on her armor.

"Yeah, and a weird one at that, its got horns and stuff." The more Sylvanas heard, the more excited she got, by the time she opened the door her body was vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass.

"Sylvanas Windrunner?" The ranger outside her door asked. She was of average height, and wearing a ranger cloak in the same orange and grey as elder Cinderbloom. She had a stocky build, tawny beige skin, that contrasted her vibrant red hair tied back in a ponytail. A well-trimmed beard Sylvanas wasn’t entirely opposed to rounded out her aesthetic nicely. Itching to fight this strange horned elemental Sylvanas gestured to her Windrunner brooch and moved past her.

"I'm Lyana Cinderbloom, ranger of Dewfruit village, your neighbors to the west." Lyana power walked to keep up with Sylvanas.

"Yes, we exchanged letters some weeks ago, now where are you hiding this elemental begging to taste my arrows."

"It was last seen by the Amberlight river and heading west-south-west." Sylvanas took off in a run

"great, let's go."

"Don't you think we should gather the rest of the lodge before we-" Lyana stopped, realizing Sylvanas was already out of sight between the darkened trees.

"Shouldn't we at least have a plan of attack?" Lyana asked when she on horseback caught up to Sylvanas still whistling for her own horse.

"We do! You keep it busy, I fill it with arrows."

* * *

"Ranger Cinderbloom."

"Yes Ranger Windrunner?"

"I feel your scouting report may have been a bit, lackluster."

"Is it not a horned water elemental?"

"It is ranger Cinderbloom, it is. Though in my humble opinion it might have also been prudent to mention it's immense size, or THE FACT THAT IT BREATHES GREEN FIRE!"

Lyana didn't have time to give a witty response as both rangers suddenly had to jump out of the way of a beam of the aforementioned green fire.

"So do we still have a plan?" Lyana asked as they took cover behind a boulder they estimated to be fire proof.

"I'm working on it!" Sylvanas said, and rolled for her life as their estimations were proven wrong.

"Well how do you usually kill an elementaaaaaaaaal." Lyana was dragged away by a watery whip extending from the elemental's hand. Because of course it had a whip-like tendril extending from its’ hand, why wouldn’t it?

Gathering herself, Sylvanas followed the tendril's path through the air with an arrow nocked, while Lyana was pulled towards the elemental’s gaping maw, fanged with icy spikes.

She loosened as the creature made to flick Lyana into it's mouth, the arrow struck true, severing the tendril from its’ owner, and sending Lyana flying into the safety of the canopy.

"Do you have any other high-flying ideas?" Lyana asked when they once again reconvened.

"Bite me Cinderbloom." Sylvanas was intently studying the elemental, looking for some tactic or weakness to exploit.

"That can be arranged Windrunner" Lyana said with a smirk. Sylvanas smirked back.

The branch they were sitting on was blasted apart by another beam of green fire tearing towards the sky. "How about we pick this back up once we've dealt with this thing?" Sylvanas said, hanging on to the knife she had managed to stab into a tree moments before plummeting to her doom.

"Hear hear." Lyana sounded a bit worse for wear, though still clear for fight, as she laid splayed across the branches of three different trees.

Lyana's statement was followed by a loud crash, and enraged screaming from the elemental. "There's our angle!" Sylvanas exclaimed victoriously.

"Where? Cause from here it looks distinctly like it's dragging us around by the ears."

"It's all power no aim! and we're surrounded by tall trees. We drop a few on its head, then celebrate with cherry wine!" Sylvanas began sliding towards the ground, with a less than convinced, but seeing no better options Lyana in tow.

"And how do you propose we do that Windrunner? Ask it politely."

"I've got a plan, just focus on getting it to shoot at you, and I'll handle the rest."

Lyana stopped in her track, and with both body and voice clearly stated "No?!"

"Yes just like that." Sylvanas gave her a winning smile, while Lyana had to dodge a regrown whip and a beam of fire in rapid succession.

Now the easy part was over, Sylvanas had to use what little breathing room Lyana could give her to make a real plan.

Her first instinct of just shooting it until it died had been met with mixed success. Which is to say they had three arrows left between them, and the elemental seemed no worse for wear. Dropping some logs on it had seemed like a good idea... Until Sylvanas realized how erratic trees fell when exposed to explosive fire magic. If only there was some way to control their fall.

Sylvanas had a rope, a basic understanding of the laws of physics, and at time very poor impulse control.

This was a terrible idea. Using her body as counterweight seemed at best doubtful, and if it failed, it would certainly mean a quick, painful death.

If it worked however, they would write songs about her feat, not to mention she would get to rub it in Alleria's face next time they met.

"Cinderbloom, get it to shoot at my tree!"

"Right away your ladyship, just let me avoid dying real quick!" Lyana said, sprinting for her life. In a short moment of rest she added. "Anything else I can get you? A cup tea?" Another gout of flame. "Perhaps some honey-and-spice cakes?"

Sylvanas reached into her quiver, yep still two arrows left. Speaking words of power she nocked her second to last arrow, and it began to glow with arcane energy.

The arrow struck the elemental’s shoulder with a small burst of sparks that did minuscule damage but attracted its attention to Sylvanas. It turned it's watery body around and shot the top of the tree Sylvanas was hiding in. Which was great and peachy, it wasn't like she needed it to shoot at the complete opposite end of the tree or anything.

As it was getting ready for another blast, a streak of icy green light flew from the undergrowth and hit it where its' eyes would have been. "Whatever you’re planning, it had better work Sylvanas!" Lyana charged the creature slicing helplessly at its’ watery lower body.

She tried to withdraw her sword to no avail, it was caught in the elemental's churning mass. It swung at Lyana, and she fell backwards towards the tree, pretending the hit had knocked her out.

Sylvanas double checked the knot, and tightened her grasp on the rope.

The elemental savored the moment of the kill, making ready for a shot against its' seemingly paralyzed prey. Sylvanas whole body tensed as the world around her seemed to slow to a crawl.

Now or never, either it worked, or it didn't... She could always just walk two broken legs off.

3... 2... 1...

With a shriek the creature send a beam of fire against Lyana.

Sylvanas took off running down her branch.

The beam hit the tree like a battering ram.

Sylvanas leapt.

The line went tight.

The fire roared beneath her.

If Lyana survived, she had no way of knowing.

The elemental looked up at her.

A moment too late it realized what was happening.

The tree fell upon it with all its’ weight.

For a moment Sylvanas' fall was broken.

It was all she needed to perform a safe, catlike landing.

Sylvanas looked around to take stock of the situation, Lyana was beaten and bruised but standing, the forest had a few more bald patches than before their fight, but in a few hundred years it would be good as new. The elemental...

The elemental was making loud, fleshy, cracking noises, something that should certainly be beyond the abilities of a creature made entirely of water. Especially one that just had several tons of Thalassian beech dropped on top of it.

"Is it supposed to be doing that?" Lyana asked, pointing a bloodied finger at the hoofed legs emerging from the rubble. Sylvanas groaned angrily in lieu of a response, her mind running at full speed to find a new plan.

Slowly the elemental was reshaping itself, water giving way for bright pink flesh, as if the impact had made some broken piece of a puzzle snap into place. "Thanks my pretties." A harsh yet sultry voice asked, from a wide lipped mouth the not-elemental hadn't had moments ago. It sent a shiver down Sylvanas spine, and whether it was fear or arousal she couldn't tell.

Slowly the creature rose to its full height, pushing the log aside as if it was nothing. The creature looked oddly feminine: wide hips, narrow waist, a large bust seemingly suspended in midair, and wearing naught but a predatory smile. Like some horny adolescents' idea of attractiveness taken to it's natural extreme. Behind it's unnaturally big, doe eyes, burned the same green fire that had nearly cost them their lives many times over that night.

The creature cracked it's neck, stretched it's wings, and shook its whole body like a cat preparing for its’ meal. Then Sylvanas spotted it, a flash of turquoise half buried in the creature’s ample left breast.

Sylvanas didn't give herself time to think. Last arrow, out of the quiver, nocked, and fired!

"Whuh?" The creature said, much less sexily, as the arrow struck the embedded amulet and the turquoise amber split down the middle. The creature began to vibrate with energy, it wailed in agony before detonating and sending burning ectoplasma everywhere.

Where the not-elemental had once stood, now lay a teardrop shaped stone artifact, with a square piece of cracked turquoise amber on its’ rounded end. The amulet was hot to the touch, and from the crack in the amber flowed a strange type of mana neither ranger had ever sensed before.

"How did you know to do that?" Lyana looked in equal parts outrage and confusion, at Sylvanas immediate success, following a plan that had put bruises on her bruises.

"Ranger’s instinct." Sylvanas said with a shrug and walked over to inspect her kill.

"Fucking Windrunners" Lyana sighed, and made to follow her. She got about three steps before collapsing sideways in pain. "I think that I broke my... Argh! Spleen!"

Sylvanas laughed slightly at what she assumed to be Lyana's nonsense joke and went to gather arrows. None however remained as all had either been broken by falling logs or caught fire from the creature’s explosion. "Little help over here?" Lyana said, still lying on the grass and clutching her leg.

"Your spleen isn't in your leg and you know that Cinderbloom." Sylvanas deadpanned, feeling the joke was getting a little long.

"No I don't cause I was just beaten half way to Kalimdor, and my leg feel like it's splitting open." That caught Sylvanas attention.

"Oh it's just broken, do you want my help splinting it or?"

Had it not been for her injuries, Lyana would have slaughtered her where she stood. "Yes?! Of course I want help! My! Leg! Is! Broken!"

"Well excuse me for respecting your privacy." Sylvanas replied, surprised at the blatant display of weakness in a situation she could’ve gotten herself out of with no need for such embarrassment. Nonetheless, she begun administering first aid.

"Fucking Windrunners." Lyana repeated under her breath, worried she might offend her best hope of getting home in one piece.

Sylvanas didn't blame herself for the incident, she had no way of knowing the artifact contained that kind of power. It did however spell trouble for the Aurendar hills, until proven otherwise, they would have to assume whoever made that brooch had the ability to make more. For all she knew more artifacts might already be making their way to other villages.

It was sometimes easy for Sylvanas to get caught up in worries. She knew what her mother would say: "protocol is there for a reason Sylvanas, follow it, obey it." That meant next step was to discuss the matter with their captain, he would know what to do next. Protocol or not, the artifact would not leave Sylvanas’ sight.

In the morning they would have to survey the damages, tell their story to villagers to assuage fears and most likely help the village elders write letters to Silvermoon asking for aid in replacing what was lost. At least it seemed like, disregarding wildlife and pets, no one had died during the attack.

"Do you have any peacebloom? Earthroot will also do in a pinch." Sylvanas felt completely lost in Lyana's hut, an impressive feat considering it was near identical to Sylvanas’ own, but with the addition of a crawlspace.

"I think so check the kitchen cupboards, and while you're there grab the mead." Lyana sat down heavily, her leg slung up on an adjacent chair.

They were in luck, Lyana had a full bag of each herbs. A quick look down her own bloody and bruised body, made Sylvanas decided she would have to empty both before the night was over. With a barely manageable spark of magic, she lit a fire to boil water, and went to making a healing salve from memory.

"Do you mind?" Lyana gestured to her bra, As Sylvanas sat down next to her with every bottle of mead in the house. "I may be high nobility but I'm no prude." Which was all the encouragement Lyana needed to let her breast breathe.

Sylvanas took in the sight, even covered in bruises that she was, Lyana was attractive in a kind of grizzled, all hard edges way. An aesthetic Sylvanas was coming to realize her ranger compatriot worked very hard to maintain. Perhaps she could be next in line after Veline.

With her free hand and a fang, Sylvanas uncorked the first bottle of mead, and poured a third of it's content down her throat. It was overly sweet, with a hint of raspberry and thyme, exactly the thing she needed.

"Give it here!" Came it from Lyana's chair as the ranger made grabby hands towards the bottle across the room.

"Out of curiosity, is the beard natural." Flat out asking a woman about the naturalness of her features was perhaps a bit inappropriate, but Sylvanas was buzzed and beat.

"Nope, magically grown, been wanting one since adolescence, and my mothers paid for it when I became a ranger." Lyana didn't seem overly offended, though Sylvanas couldn't rule out that she didn't want to bite the hand that healed. "Counter question: is it true what they say about Windrunners."

Sylvanas brow crinkled: "What do they say about Windrunners?"

Lyana threw aside the empty bottle, Sylvanas was already ready with another. "By the Sun, what don't they say about Windrunners? That you are always born twins, but kills the other in the womb and fashions a bow from the spine. That if Quel'Thalas is ever threatened, your ancestors will rise from their urns to protect the lands. And my personal favorites: that your genitalia is covered in poisonous spine that you can fire in case someone of low birth glances sidelong at your nude form."

Sylvanas choked on gooseberry mead. "Sorry to disappoint but both low born and peasant women have done more than just glance sidelong at my nude form."

"Is that so, perhaps you already got a beau or two in Fairbreeze?" Lyana laughed, and passed the bottle back.

"Not yet, I'm trying to enjoy the hunt."

Lyana's face twitched for a moment, and returned to a sleepy, albeit slightly more forced smile.

"What's the matter Cinderbloom?" Sylvanas had, had enough courtly scheming back in Silvermoon, she did not have the patience for her fellow ranger starting as well.

"It's not my place to judge." The carefree ranger's behavior had changed completely.

"Out with it, or so help me I will break your other leg."

Sylvanas could have sworn Lyana mumbled a prayer before she spoke. "I just, don't find it to be a very, savory way to talk about your fellow elves, we're low born, not animals lady Windrunner."

Sylvanas made a non-committal grunt, and opened the last bottle of mead, despite the other one not being even half empty yet.

The rest of the night was spent in awkward silence, until Lyana fell asleep with the rising sun and Sylvanas began the long trek home.


	3. Deemspring's Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvanas gets bullied by her sister, and area man turns out to be the actual worst to no one's surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for unwanted groping towards the end

There was something inherently familiar to Sylvanas about stumbling hungover home in the early hours of the morning. It was like she had never finished her apprenticeship. Even the scraps and bruises was nothing new: inter-house rivalry could get brutal when younglings with something to prove and alcohol in their veins was involved.

"There you are Sylvanas! I've been worried sick!" Yep, nothing new here either... Wait, why was her mom in Fairbreeze Village?

A shorter body collided frontally with her, and she was pulled into a hug. Oh right! Not her mom, Veline, her frightfully innocent, temporary roommate.

Sylvanas looked deep into the other woman's golden eyes, and brushed a stray lock of hair to the side. Veline was on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry Lean, Dewfruit village was having late night troubles and I didn't wanna wake you and your mom."

Veline took a long, steadying breath. "Okay, I'm okay."

"Besides" Sylvanas said with a cocky laugh. "I'm a Windrunner, Valour of the Forest means I look out for the forest, and it looks out for me. No reason for you to worry for me as well.“ Still, Sylvanas held her tightly for a moment to remind her of her presence, and the peasant woman’s whimpers quieted.

"Is now a bad time for me to mention that I made pastries to calm myself." Veline asked self-consciously scratching at the dirt with her foot.

Two months ago Sylvanas would have kissed her on the lips for it without a second thought, now she kept to a gentle brush through of hair. “No, that sounds wonderful Heart-of-light.”

Inside the hut, Veline’s mother Silra sat cross legged in the good chair, glaring at Sylvanas over the edge of her teacup. Sylvanas glared right back, nearly sticking out her tongue like a child would as well.

Veline hurried in after Sylvanas, and frantically began piling pastries unto a plate. “I know they’re all the same type, but the filling is different. These have chocolate, these cinnamon butter, and these raspberry remonce.” She said, placing an exquisitely folded pastry knot of each type in front of Sylvanas then began rambling again. “I was also making some with cream cheese and lemon, which I know is a bit modern, but then I saw you and I stopped, but if you want those I could-”

Sylvanas left the pastries untouched on the table, and went to caress Veline’s shoulder as she was about to restart her baking project. “It’s perfect as it is, have you eaten yet?”

“I’ve snacked on filling.”

Sylvanas frowned. “Won’t you join me then?”

“But the dough might over-proof.”

“Veline, please, come have breakfast with me.” Veline whined and looked longingly to her bowl of half-mixed filling, but let herself be dragged back to the chair. Silra raised a single approving eyebrow, though Sylvanas wasn’t sure which of them it was meant for.

Protocol prescribed that Sylvanas informed ranger captain Dawnstar of the incident at Dewfruit village with a report, so like a good ranger that was what Sylvanas did. Pushing through hangovers and sleep deprivation, she wrote six painstakingly descriptive pages about what she had seen and learned. Veline without being asked, talked her mother into reviewing the report from the perspective of a retired soldier. Sylvanas took great pleasure in seeing the otherwise staunch woman crumble under the weight of her daughter’s doe eyes. She didn’t have a lot of feedback, other than the situation sounded like “a whole heaping mess, no doubt started by a noble”. The letter was sent off before nightfall, so it would land on Captain Dawnstar’s desk with the first light of dawn.

A weeks passed with no response. It was annoying but understandable, perhaps he knew something Sylvanas didn’t and had to move carefully. When several more weeks passed without even a private acknowledgment of the incident, Lyana wrote her own, less extensive, more demanding, report and sent it to the captain. In case “he was hoping for another perspective”, Sylvanas taught her to say.

Still no response.

Now losing her patience, Sylvanas wrote another letter for the captain urging him to action, stamped it with the Oak and Moon of house Windrunner, and signed it "Her highborne ladyship, Sylvanas Alanassori Driana'Coria Tyrande Quelith of House Windrunner, seventh in line for the throne of Silvermoon. Heir to Thas'Dorah and guardian of Quel’Thalas. Ranger of Fairbreeze Village by the grace of lord Areiel Feathermoon. And Scion of Windrunner Spire."

When that didn't work, Lyana and Sylvanas rode halfway across the Aurendar hills to his lodge north of Highstand Village. Of course he just so happened to be out that day, and the next three days after that.

Polite options exhausted, Sylvanas was, much to her annoyance, forced to rely on her courtier training. She sent out a letter to each of her fellow rangers of the lodge, including captain Dawnstar, wrapped in so much political nonsense it ought to come with a cypher, inviting them to an informal dinner celebrating ranger Cinderbloom and her own victory against the unknown creature that had assailed Dewfruit village.

Had she made it any more obvious she was assuming her captain's responsibilities, she would have received an indignant letter from her mother.

Veline, being her usual lovely self, had volunteered to do the cooking for the meeting. Sylvanas had in vain tried to explain that the dinner was merely an excuse for nobles to get together and discuss things outside of courts, and that food itself was optional. Veline told her that made no sense, so Sylvanas just took the excuse to get another homely meal out of her, now that her mother's farm had its roof once more.

The closer the day of the meeting came, the more unsure Sylvanas became of herself. In Silvermoon she would have known how things would have turned out, and she would have friends to call in for support. This was not Silvermoon however, this was the Aurendar hills, the rules were different when your greatest claim to fame was being a place where people on the road to Silvermoon could relieve themselves in relative comfort. In the unlikely event of everyone attending, they would be six people discounting Veline, which was a laughably small number compared to the kind of gatherings Sylvanas usually dominated. However outside of Sylvanas, they would all be locals to either the Aurendar hills, or at the very least the Goldenbough region.

* * *

First to arrive was Lyana, an hour before the meeting was to start as agreed, to ensure she arrived before the captain. She didn't clean up as well as Sylvanas would have liked her to. Her beard was impeccable, the rest of her was a disaster more fit for wooing dwarven dignitaries, than it was for political intrigue. Sylvanas let it slide for the night, there were limits as to what could be expected of low nobility from the midlands. At least she had remembered to wear the brooch with the burning flower sigil of her house.

15 minutes before the meeting was to start, another ranger came walking up the path to her house. She had russet brown skin, and a sharp face dotted with freckles, her hair was sensibly long, curly and brown, and above her left eyebrow sat a recent scar. Judging by her canary yellow and blueish green cloak, Sylvanas determined her to be Jennalla Deemspring: the person who would determine the night’s outcome. Once her house had been the allies and vassals of house Windrunner, but three centuries ago Jennalla’s grandmother had sought independence, which had soured the relationship; though Sylvanas would admit some of her mother’s actions had been overly punitive. Much as the Deemsprings disliked the Windrunners, they also had little love for captain Dawnstar, who had been given the title over Jennalla’s much more qualified and accomplished mother.

“Ranger Deemspring, thank you for coming.” Sylvanas opened the door, feigning unfamiliarity with the bitter history between them. Jennalla had no such compunctions, greeting her curtly, before moving past her to to talk to Lyana like an old friend. That was an outcome Sylvanas could accept, she didn’t need Jennalla to like her, just to agree with her, and assuming Lyana’s allegiance didn’t change, she seemed to have secured an even split.

Next came the Ranger Captain in all his arachnid arrogance, with full ranger captain regalia and trinkets galore. As if that would intimidate Sylvanas, the first thing she saw when she left the womb was the Ranger General. "Ah captain Dawnstar, let me be the first to compliment your bold fashion choice." It was the oldest trick in the book, and Vassarin fell in it face first, looking himself up and down in confusion and worry. It wouldn’t change any minds, but it certainly entertained Sylvanas.

Lastly a short man and a tall woman came walking towards the hut hand in hand. The man was average in every way: he was exactly one standard deviation below the average height of an elf, and no tailor in Quel’Thalas would be able to identify the maker of his clothes. Had it not been for his brooch with a sword and the sun, Sylvanas would have thought him an amalgam of every nobleman to ever struggle with the word “lesbian”. She did not think highly of Mae’Thelin Sunstriker, nor for that matter his low-noble house.

The ranger Sunstriker arrived with was a different matter, she wore the gaudy dark blue and white of house Dawnstar with reasonable grace. Tight leather pants under a medium length silk skirt, was certainly on trend, especially when paired with a half-cape as she had done. Sylvanas however questioned the appropriateness of wearing it this far from Silvermoon, and while holding a position meant to inspire confidence in the common folk. Sylvanas supposed it couldn’t be helped given Anasteria’s history. When Jennalla’s mother had resigned in protest, Dar’Khan Drathir had pressured ranger lord Feathermoon into letting his youngest daughter, barely more than an adolescent, finish her apprenticeship many years prematurely. All so she could take over Tranquilsong Village from Lenara Deemspring, and keep track of Dar’Khan’s wayward brother.

Sylvanas and Anasteria Dawnstar embraced each other in false friendship, and spoke at length about fashion, and how they hoped their fathers’ (equally false) friendship would live on in them. It felt almost homely the way they smiled widely at each other, while knowing full well they would carve open the other’s throats if given the chance.

They all exchanged a few more pleasantries in the clearing outside the hut, while Veline finished dinner. Then they sat down to eat, staunchly ignoring the kodo in the room.

"Oh you had a woman from the village cook for us, how quaint lady Windrunner." Anasteria said as Veline brought in the first course. Sylvanas smirked. "My apologies lady Dawnstar, had I known I would need to entertain guests unused to the ways of the ranger corps, I would have brought in a chef from Silvermoon." The blue haired elf glared at Sylvanas for a second, then pretended to be caught up in tinkering with her overlong fishtail braid.

When Veline brought in the main course, the tension finally got to Vassarin. "Ranger Windrunner, would you care to enlighten us why you have so callously gathered us all here?"

Sylvanas smiled sweetly, half tempted to answer "whatever do you mean?" to see how riled up she could get him. Instead she went the direct route, no reason not to, as Vassarin had already lost the first battle in admitting there were deeper things at play, than just a gathering of ranger comrades. Judging by the way Anasteria’s eye twitched slightly, she had realized the same.

"Well." Sylvanas said, carving down to the bone of her rabbit leg with the utmost patience. "As you recall, Ranger Cinderbloom and myself, encountered and disposed of a rampaging, unknown type of elemental creature some time ago . As your busy schedule has so far kept you from staging a deeper investigation into the matter, we thought it prudent that we relieve you of some of your managerial tasks... No disrespect meant of course." That last part was a lie, and everyone including Veline knew as much.

A dark red hue spread from Vassarin's neck all the way to the tip of his ears. "This again Windrunner? I will say it once, and only once: your rogue elemental has not been investigated further, nor is it going to be, because it was a fluke, some magister apprentice’s pet project or a long dead enchanter's scheme. It happens, and I will not be cowed by a pair of upstarts to waste the time of my entire lodge."

Sylvanas looked around the table to take stock of the situation. Vassarin had risen from his chair in anger, and Anasteria and Mae'Thelin seemed ready to follow him. On her side of the table Sylvanas could see Lyana reaching for the dagger in her boot, while Jennalla was popping broad beans in her mouth with anticipatory glee.

This ended one of two ways Sylvanas realized: either in bloodshed against her captain and colleagues, or with her giving ground.

"Very well ranger captain." Everyone sat down at once, confusion written across their collective faces. "I apologize for my over-enthusiasm and any offense I may have caused, I shall endeavor to be more thoughtful and humble in the future."

Vassarin harumphed but allowed the situation to de-escalate, then he made a wicked smile of his own. "Then, as a show of good faith, I should like the amulet, that I can properly dispose of this object that has torn a rift between us."

That was out of the question, Sylvanas’ hadn’t even entrusted the amulet to Lyana after all the destruction it had caused, no way was she handing it over for this overgrown child to poke and prod til he burned a hole in the Sunfeather mountains. “Apologies captain Dawnstar, but when you didn’t respond to my letter, I thought it best if I destroyed the artifact to avoid it falling in the wrong hands. So I had it thrown in the blacksmith’s furnace.”

Vassarin Dawnstar shot out of his chair, slamming both palms against the table. “You burnt the Nametaker?”

Sylvanas had to stab her thigh with a fork to keep from showing her hand. Vassarin knew about the artifact, and he was not willing to share. “The what now?” Sylvanas channeled Veline’s innocence as she looked to the captain in confusion.

“None of your concern.” Vassarin roared, knocking plates and cups to the floor with his wild swings. “Was it the one in Fairbreeze.” He turned to snarl at Anasteria and Mae’Thelin who abandoned their meals in all haste. “Answer me!” Spittle struck Sylvanas in the face.

This was bad, Vassarin was coming unhinged in his eagerness to acquire the Nametaker, and he was about to send his minions to rain down hellfire on Fairbreeze’s blacksmith, who wouldn’t know the first thing they were asking about. Sylvanas had no idea what the artifact, or her captain was capable off, but she knew she couldn’t have whatever they were about to do on her consciousness.

“Wait, wait!” She yelled after the captain as he along with his henchmen were opening the door to leave. “Now that I think back, I never got around to having it burned. It was right here in my pouch all along, how forgetful of me.” As lies went, Sylvanas’ was thin as a drop of wine in the ocean, she’d been put on the spot with no clear ways out.

Begrudgingly she handed over the Nametaker to captain Dawnstar, who smiled broadly at her in a way that made Sylvanas look all the more forwards to feeding him his own teeth. The sheer glee with which he retrieved the amulet and left without another word made Sylvanas certain that whatever the matter was with that artifact, he was at the heart of it all.

"He didn't even stay for dessert!" An outraged Veline exclaimed, tray of cookies in hand, when he was safely out of earshot. "More for us." Sylvanas sighed, her ears hanging slightly.

"So… He’s definitely up to something." Jennalla said, making Sylvanas ears perk back up a bit.

"Nothing is certain yet, but if the captain is as involved as he seems, that means we're on our own." Having accepted the major setback, Sylvanas was now ready to process what she had learned, and plan their next move.

"Your mom is the ranger general, how in the world are we on our own with this? One letter from you and he will spend the rest of his life scraping goop off the magister's terrace." Lyana sounded equal parts confused and annoyed.

"Had it been any other matter, then yes absolutely, but minn'da is intent on me becoming a ranger like any other, so it's Dawnstar's word against mine." It wasn't the real reason, but it was the same lie as her mother would tell if she brought it up.

"So what's the plan boss?" Jennalla sat, arms crossed, and tried to look intimidating while sneakily nibbling on Veline's cookies.

“You’re joining the cause rather quickly ranger Deemspring.”

“Captain Dawnstar has showed how little he cared for Aurendar tonight, and many times before. I don’t have to like you to know that you are currently the one closest - wow these are really good!” She stopped mid sentence after tasting one of Veline’s cookies. Veline glowed like the sun from the compliment, which did things to Sylvanas’ heart.“Ahem, as I was saying, you are the one closest to getting to the bottom of this Nametaker situation.” Another short pause. “And, Lyana trusts you.”

Sylvanas looked around the room, as three pairs of golden eyes stared expectantly at her. During her apprenticeship, she had occasionally been called upon to lead patrols of draft-soldiers, and even once or twice groups of other ranger apprentices, but nothing of this scale. Sylvanas was well and truly out of her depth. No, she could do this, she was a ranger, a damn good one, and once they completed this mission with flying colors, her mom would finally see it was what she was meant to do.

Veline's hand shot up like a child in class, when Sylvanas failed to offer any inspirational words..

"Yes?" Sylvanas said, remembering half a second too late to add a flirty smirk to her answer, making it seem more like she’d accidentally bit her tongue.

"Well I was thinking uhm, I know he saw my face, but I don't think he actually took notice of it, what with me being a commoner and such. So uhm, maybe I could, you know, spy on him? You know maybe he needs more maids or something."

Jennalla seemed to be genuinely considering it, while Lyana was struggling to contain her laughter. "I appreciate the offer solstice-of-solstices, I really do, but no, we can't ask that of you. It would put you in too much danger, and truth be told: deception isn’t really your strong suit." Veline's ears fell down flat, and she stuffed a whole cookie in her mouth to hide her disappointment.

"Do we then even have a plan then, ranger Windrunner?" Jennalla said, her faith in Sylvanas waning by the second.

They didn't but Sylvanas couldn't say that. She was a Windrunner, people looked to her when times got tough, and so help her, taking down a corrupt ranger captain would be an incredible start to her story. One she could rub all over Alleria’s face.

A light suddenly went up inside Sylvanas’ mind. "We do! We are going to talk to my sister."

* * *

Silvermoon at least still looked like itself, Sylvanas noted with relief. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to change in six months with an elven city that had stood steadfast for over 7000 years; it was just good to know that some things remained the same. What with her now spending her days in a two room forest hut, and taking on a ranger captain behind his back.

To think mere months ago she had been dancing and singing down the royal exchange, with a low nobility girl on each arm, and Kalira Dawnstrike in tow. The face her mother pulled after hearing about Sylvanas and Kalira’s graduation day alone, had made every sleepless night looking out for Amani skirmishers worth it. Sylvanas would never admit it, but she missed the Silvermoon life, missed the drinking, the fucking, and the partying until the sun came up. Though she didn’t miss it as much as she was looking forward to plotting the defeat of a corrupt ranger captain with her big sister. Not to mention that she still had a pair of low nobility women at her side, though her desire was for now solely focused around the peasant girl acting as their handmaiden for the trip, and wouldn’t that ever be a scandal if the courts found out?

Lyana and Jennalla made a good show of pretending they had been to the beating heart of Quel’Thalas more than once in the last century. Veline on the other hand… Suffice to say that Sylvanas was preparing to having to duel someone over a slight caused by her “servant”. Sylvanas didn’t blame her, the streets paved with ivory, the thousands of elves rushing to and fro, even the air tasted like mana. It all made Fairbreeze village seem positively human by comparison.

They had a few hours to kill before their meeting with Alleria, deliberately so. They were already making the long trip to Silvermoon, it would have been criminal not to have gone shopping while there.

Jennalla had promised both her mother Lenara, and her little sister Velonara a souvenir each. Lyana was in the market for some new boots, preferably some that would last a few decades but remain within her budget. Sylvanas had promised to pick up a few herbs for elder Cinderbloom, but really she was on the lookout for something that caught Veline’s eye and an excuse to buy it for her.

The first leather worker they tried nearly tripped over themselves in their scramble to appease Sylvanas. Anything not in green and gold was quickly ripped from the displays and hidden in the backroom, lest the sight of another house’s colors offend her. Unlike Sylvanas, who had long since grown accustomed to such treatment, Lyana and Jennalla were stuck staring at the shopkeeper rushing to make tea after Sylvanas explicitly told them she was not in the mood. Veline had taken one look at a price tag, and was now busy trying not to breathe too hard in the direction of anything.

The second leather worker was more used to dealing with people of Sylvanas’ stature. Meaning they had arcane watchers standing at the door and brewing tea the moment she approached. While the experience was much closer to what Lyana and Jennalla normally associated with Silvermoon, the price was hilariously out of their budget.

The third leather worker turned out to be under house Windrunner’s patronage, and if they though the first two had been tripping over themselves to appease Sylvanas, they hadn’t seen anything yet. Lyana ended up getting a free pair of boots as the elderly owner begged Sylvanas to let him “give a gift to a friend of the most noble house of Windrunner.”

To avoid further incidents, they stopped by one of Sylvanas’ old friend’s villa so she could change out of her house colors. Well Sylvanas said it was an old friend, it was really more like an ex-girlfriend she didn’t have the heart to tell she would never be getting back together with. Not only was Sylvanas not much for repeating mistakes, but the woman was so utterly pedestrian even sex had become boring. Though Lyana and Jennalla disagreed, letting Auriana or whatever her name was, dream up her perfect wedding in front of Windrunner spire, seemed the kindest course of action to Sylvanas.

They had agreed to meet at an upscale restaurant in the Court of the Sun. Though when they arrived the head server apologized profusely, telling them that Alleria had sent word ahead that she would be delayed by half an hour. After declining a bottle of wine on the house, Sylvanas took her three co-conspirators for a quick stroll over to her favorite part of Silvermoon: Farstrider Square, the military district.

No high noble would ever be caught dead wearing a weapon that wasn’t either a family heirloom or made for their hands. The stores in the military district were therefore much more relaxed with high noble customers, as it was a given they were either window shopping or looking for conversation pieces.

The weapon smith they picked on a whim, was entirely taken in by Jennalla’s sword “Obstinance”, which she smugly informed her hailed from the first troll war. Lyana would later swear she saw the smith salivate, when Jenn caved and unsheathed the blade for her viewing pleasure.

That gave Sylvanas the freedom to admire Veline admiring a dagger. Quietly, Sylvanas moved up behind Veline and spoke into her ear: “It’s okay you can take it off the rack if you want.” Making Veline shiver in an ever so desirable fashion.

The blade was of exquisite quality, though more intricate than what Sylvanas would have picked for herself. Perhaps that was what had caught Veline’s untrained attention to it. The blade was curved, with a hook on the front meant for directing opponents swings and causing jagged wounds. A heavy pommel compensated for the hollow handle, allowing it to be used either as not just a heavy throwing weapon, but also a hidden container for letters, or more likely vials of poison. With reverence glowing in her eyes, Veline took the dagger into her hands and made a few cautious stabs and slashes against the air. Her inexperience with weapons was clear as day, which made her actions, and the joy with which she undertook them, all the more adorable.

“How are you finding it.” Sylvanas asked when Veline’s awe had somewhat subsided. “It’s strange.” Veline said, still unable to tear her gaze from the weapon. “I hold a knife many times a day, and it’s nothing, but this one makes me feel spellbound and powerful all at once.”

“That’s because it’s a weapon not a tool, and with all due respect my lady, a rather expensive one at that. So unless you intend to buy that for your maid, I would like her to stop toying with my wares.” The weapon smith’s wife politely, yet insistently informed them.

Sylvanas could not have asked for a better angle. “Well who’s to say that’s not what I’m here for, Veline is the knife to your liking?.”

Veline protested. “Oh no Sylv- Lady Windrunner, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Would you accept it from me though? As a gift for your loyal friendship?”

“I guess there would be no harm in that, not like I would know how to use it.”

Sylvanas smirked, as Veline fell into her trap with both legs. “That is an excellent point Sharpvale, we shall have to fix that post-haste.”

Turning to the weapon smith’s wife with a smile she gestured to the dagger: “I should like a second one made, but blunted for training. Will that be possible?” The shopkeeper nodded in affirmation and went to discuss the order with her wife.

Veline sputtered and tried once more to protest. “That’s too much Sylvanas! Now you’re buying me two knives.”

“Am not! I am buying you a knife, and a training knife. You wouldn’t buy a pot with no lid would you?”

“I guess that’s true.” Veline seemed to still be thinking of the price, unlike Sylvanas who could buy herself a hundred knives like that if she so pleased. “But who would train me?”

“Why it would be my greatest pleasure.” Sylvanas said with a flirtatious smile that exposed both her fangs. Veline grew quiet as a blush spread across her cheeks all the way to the tip of her ears.

“You look like garbage lady Sun.” It was Sylvanas default response to meeting her older sister, but this time it held true. She hid it well, but Sylvanas could tell right away, that something was off with Alleria.

“And you smell like a pigsty, the country air has done you well lady Moon.” Sylvanas got up and pulled Alleria into an unexpected hug, which her older sister then melted into. “I’ve missed you too sis.”

Quickly composing herself, Sylvanas turned to face her entourage. “Lady Cinderbloom, Lady Deemspring, allow me to introduce: her Ladyship Alleria Talanas Driana’Coria Azshara Eldamar Windrunner, Heir apparent to Thas’Dorah and guardian of QuelThalas. Sixth in line for the throne of Silvermoon. Farstrider by the grace of Ranger General Lireesa Windrunner, and my sister!” The last part wasn’t exactly customary, but it brought Sylvanas no small amount of pride.

“Hiya.” Alleria waved to the two awestruck rangers and the farm girl.

“Thanks lady Sun, way to make me look like a nerd in front of my friends.”

“You know what mom said, it’s our duty to use the talents we have.”

They all sat down to eat, even Veline, which Alleria raised an eyebrow at, but didn’t comment on.

With their meals in front of them, and the nosy waiters polity yet insistently asked to mind their business in the presence of their betters, Alleria moved in close. “So… what’s this I hear about a corrupt ranger captain?”

Sylvanas moved her head in to meet her. “We have reason to believe captain Dawnstar is making unsanctioned use of, or at least willfully concealing evidence of, a powerful magical artifact of unknown origin.” Not wanting to be left out, Veline, Lyana and Jennalla all stuck their heads into the scrum at once.

“What else do you have?” Alleria asked, giving Sylvanas pause for thought. “We have… uhm, the name, description and some of the uses of artifact. As well as a few eyewitness testimonies.”

Alleria’s expression darkened. “Are any of those testimonies, besides your own, from nobles?”

Sylvanas looked to Lyana who wordlessly confirmed what she already knew and Alleria feared. “So in essence, you have nothing, least of all anything you could bring before your ranger lord. Wait, who even is your ranger lord?”

“Areiel Feathermoon.” Sylvanas sighed

“Great, just great, so not only do you have no useful evidence to show, you also need to get the Mountain Lord to hear your case. Do you know why they call them the Mountain Lord?”

Sylvanas opened her mouth to speak. “Because they act with the speed of the mountains Sylvanas!” Alleria more yelled than spoke. “The last time your Ranger Lord made a public appearance, was when personally instructed to do so by the Sun King himself.”

“Seems we have our work cut out for us.” Sylvanas said with a cocky smile.

“To say the least.” Alleria agreed, matching her smile perfectly

“Hah, the three of us will have him standing trial at Goldenbough spire this time next year!” Lyana spoke confidently, having perhaps underestimated the potency of the cherry wine they were served.

“And I’ll be there as well!” Veline added, momentarily tearing herself from the best (and most expensive) meal she’d had in her life.

They planned and plotted in hushed whispers for hours, Veline and Jennalla working together to take meticulous notes along the way. With practiced ease Alleria convinced multiple nosy waiters they were planning the wedding of a close friend.

Sylvanas’ big sister was the coolest person in Quel’Thalas.

“So, were the Farstrider’s everything you had hoped?” Sylvanas asked as she walked side by side with Alleria through the royal exchange. The others had already gone to the inn where they would be spending the night, to prepare for their return to Aurendar in the morning.

“It’s okay, not as glamorous as the stories say.” Sylvanas didn’t need to be an expert in telling when her sister was lying to know she wasn’t being given the whole truth.

“Uhuh?”

“Okay I’ll spill, if you spill first, and I can’t do it in public; oath of secrecy you know.”

Sylvanas laughed, thinking Alleria was joking. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“What’s the deal with the Sharpvale girl?”

“She’s the latest in a long line of potential conquests.” Sylvanas shrugged, and Alleria grew smugger. “And that’s why you couldn’t tear your gaze away from her while we were planning?”

Sylvanas blushed all the way to her cheeks. “I will say, she played the role of clueless peasant to perfection, you should suggest she become a knowledge thief if she isn’t already. Why the secrecy though? Let me guess, she’s a Salonar, no wait, a Brightwing.”

“She’s neither of those.” Sylvanas said, dragging her feet in embarrassment.

Alleria smiled the smile of a big sister about to get some prime dirt on her younger sibling. “Sylvanas, you aren’t falling for a low-noble are you?” It wasn’t strictly illegal for high nobility to marry below their station, in fact it was a common tactic to ensure loyalty from lesser house. Though Lireesa would no doubt have thoughts on the matter.

“I’m not.”

Alleria deflated ever so slightly. “Okay I give up, what’s the matter with Veline.”

“She’s a peasant.”

Alleria walked into a lamp post.

“Come again lady Moon.”

“Veline is a peasant.”

“And you brought her here?! Are you out of your mind Sylvanas? Do you know what mother would do if she found out you were courting a peasant?”

Sylvanas opened her mouth. “She would have her assassinated Sylvanas! Drawn, quartered and fed to the lynxes for good measure!”

“Would you relax! We’re not even a couple yet.”

“And you never will be. okay?”

“Dearest lady Sun, I have dealt with mother’s disapproval since Derithela Brightwing took me as her initiate.”

Alleria paused, contemplating what to say next for several seconds.

“I know Sylvanas. I also know you don’t care what minn’da thinks, and I know you can handle whatever she has to throw at you. What truly worries me is… You’re a child lady Moon, you hop and skip from bed to bed with no care for who you harm along the way.”

“So long as I’m willing to deal with the consequences, is that not my prerogative?” Sylvanas thought her sister was sounding a lot like their mother, and she had not come all this way to be lectured.

“But is Veline? You come into her life atop a golden horse, stealing her heart as you always do, and promising her a life of wealth. Even if mother doesn’t have her killed the first time you are seen in public together, what will become of the woman you leave behind?”

“She will go back to life on the farm, knowing no woman will ever satisfy her like I did.”

The back of Alleria’s hand hit her like a whip crack. “This is no joking matter Sylvanas. Do you understand how wealth like ours would change her life? The indignities and pain she would suffer to claim such a fate?”

“Are you worried she will become my stalker lady Sun?”

“No I’m worried she won’t tell you to stop, even when she needs you to, because she needs you to pay for a new plowshare more.

“Who the hell do you take me for Alleria?” Sylvanas was outraged at her sister’s implications. “I’m not some perverted bastard child of the Azurebreeze coast, I don’t take anything that isn’t offered me, and I don’t push my partner’s boundaries.”

“And I want you to stay that way Sylvanas.”

After that depressing talk, Sylvanas wasn’t really in the mood to interrogate her sister about the life of a Farstrider when they reached Alleria’s villa in the old part of town. Instead they spend the afternoon taste-testing disgusting human liquors Alleria had picked up on her travels. Ranking them from least to most undrinkable and making comments like: “Ah yes, the notes of fecal matter really brings out the bold flavors of moldy grain.”

* * *

Never one to take advice she didn’t already agree with, Sylvanas made no effort to establish clear boundaries with Veline or relent her pursuit. Instead, she kept her promise to train Veline in knife fighting.

They met in a grove behind Sylvanas’ hut, which she, during her time living in Fairbreeze, had bit by bit turned into a practice range. Veline was as usual wearing a plain linen dress, this time in greenish brown, and Sylvanas couldn’t help but chuckles. “Fairest-of-stars, unless you plan to spend your evening stitching tears in your dress while nursing a broken leg, I heartily recommend you change into a pair of pants.”

Veline looked very sheepish. “I… don’t have any. Pants that is. I thought if I just wore earth colors it would be okay?”

Sylvanas didn’t follow her train of thoughts. “Well that may be fine for tending the farm, but knife fighting is rough and mobile, so I would much prefer you didn’t wear something that’s going to strangle us both. Such clothing is more fit for a second date.”

It took a lot but Sylvanas eventually got Veline to agree to burrowing a pair of pants and a shirt from Sylvanas. It didn’t fit her very well, Sylvanas wasn’t exactly busty, but she was muscular and compared to Veline’s obscenely narrow frame she was practically all curves.

“You don’t have to look.” Veline mumbled shyly after Sylvanas had helped untie her dress.

“But do you mind that I do so? I assure you, you haven’t anything I have not seen before.”

“And in much more appealing ways I’m sure.” Veline mumbled glumly.

“No such thing, all women have their own beauty.” Sylvanas didn’t truly hold such lofty ideals, however she was losing her patience. It had been six months since she first showed interest in Veline, at this point Sylvanas should be giving her rebound the “it’s not you it’s me” speech, not still fishing for any overt signs of affection.

“I… I would like to change in solitude please.” Sylvanas left, sighing to herself as she did.

“The thing they never tell you in the tales about combat.” Sylvanas dodged out of the way of Veline’s thrust.

“Which you cannot forget, no matter what.” Swapping her knife into a reverse grip, she parried right, then left, then up.

“All it takes is a moment’s inattentiveness.” Sylvanas pirouetted gracefully to the side, just as expected Veline followed her with her eyes but not her body. Sylvanas grabbed her arm, kicked the back of her leg, and put the dulled knife against her throat.

“And you die.” Veline dropped her knife.

Then she grinned widely and slapped Sylvanas’ hand. “Again!”

Sylvanas grinned back. “You’re a quick study, next lesson: grapples.”

It was true what Sylvanas had said, Veline was a remarkably quick learner. Was it life or death, Sylvanas would have slain her without a hint of trouble, but as it wasn’t, Sylvanas found great joy in teaching her. Veline wasn’t in great shape, too many hours weeding, and not enough meat in her diet. What she lacked in skill and prowess however, she made up for in enthusiasm. Each time Sylvanas knocked her down, she got back up with a smile, and every time they broke for water, Veline was itching to get back in.

Sylvanas was even starting to break a sweat, more than that though, she was getting hungry, though not for food or mana. She wanted to lick the sweat of Veline’s collarbone, bite into her neck, and hear her whimper against her hand. More than once Sylvanas had to stop herself from getting touchy.

In one such moment of almost touchy-ness, Sylvanas felt a grip around her ankle. Next thing she knew she was lying on the ground with a very smug Veline on top of her.

“What was that you said about moments of inattentiveness ranger Windrunner?” Veline asked, sticking her tongue out ever so slightly, in a manner that took everything out of Sylvanas not to cross the inch between their faces and kiss her.

“You know, I can’t seem to recall.” Sylvanas said, a mischievous smirk spreading across her lips.

She pushed sideways against the ground, making Veline shriek as she reversed her grapple. “Here’s another lesson Little Light.” Sylvanas stabbed her dagger into the ground next to Veline’s ear. “It’s not over til it’s over.”

Veline stared up at her with the most curious look in her eyes and nervously licked her lips.

“Wha?” Veline awkwardly shuffled to hide the new fold in her pants, and there was Sylvanas answer.

“My, lady Sharpvale, you seem to be getting caught up in the moment.” As she spoke, Sylvanas ever so gently pressed her knee in between Veline’s legs, causing her to yelp in surprise.

“I’m, uhm, ahh.” Sylvanas ran a finger along Veline’s ears. “Lynx got your tongue Veline?”

“No. I.” Something in Veline’s voice had changed, she wasn’t being coy.

“Sylvanas I… I need you to stop.”

Sylvanas stumbled backwards off Veline.

“Lady Sharpvale, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

No more words were spoken, they both ran home to hide.


	4. Sharpvale's Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sylvanas' comes down with the big sad (tm), and the Windrunner's show their inability to respond to their emotions like well adjusted adults.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted two days early because reypadawanjedi made fanart, and I'm crying
> 
> https://twitter.com/aliz_sf/status/1168509633264279554
> 
> https://twitter.com/aliz_sf/status/1164475044099219456

Time for Sylvanas became a slow blur.

She performed all her duties, but even she could sense that she was distant as she did them. At the end of the day she barely had energy to eat, much less run an illicit investigation of a ranger captain with unknown goals.

It wasn’t because of the rejection, much as it was a new experience to Sylvanas, she couldn’t deny it was well deserved.

It wasn’t even because she had hurt Veline, though that was certainly part of it.

Sylvanas was in a slump because she had failed her vow. She was sworn to protect the people of Fairbreeze village, it was the one thing in life she had accomplished for herself.

Somehow Lyana and Jennalla had learned about her indiscretion, there was a distinct possibility she had told them herself in a drunken fit. Be it from pity, or disgust, they were giving Sylvanas a wide berth. Sylvanas supposed it didn’t matter which it was, both reminded her of her mother.

She wouldn’t admit it to a soul, living nor dead, but part of Sylvanas worried her mother had been right in trying to deny her ascension to the ranger corps.

Six months of observation had brought them nothing, save for a few strange phenomena that could hypothetically be ascribed to an incompetent arcanist. The occasional floating tree or luminescent dragonhawk wasn’t exactly anything that mandated calling the Farstriders.

Had captain Dawnstar not shown his hand about the Nametaker, Sylvanas would likely have called the whole hunt off. Yet that accursed piece of stone scared her more than a legion of Amani cavalry ever could.

Even with its’ heart cracked open, the amulet had an aura of numbness to it, as if looking at it for too long would trap you amidst the swirling pattern. What’s more, the crack she had inflicted, had bit by bit been healing whilst in her possession, if that had continued after she gave it to captain Dawnstar, it would have been whole by now. Sylvanas suspected the only reason they’d had no further incidents since the elemental was the guiding hand of either Anasteria, or possibly Dar’Khan Drathir himself. Still the fuse was lit, and still Sylvanas had gotten none the wiser since she had been forced to part with the artifact.

Yes her options for research were limited by the need for secrecy, but the sheer volume of nothingness she found about it spoke volumes all on it’s own. It wasn’t elemental, wasn’t arcane, wasn’t necromantic, wasn’t demonic, wasn’t even truly magical. It was a hole, in history, in consciousness, in the world.

Sylvanas didn’t even know for certain it was the only one in existence, but she sure as shit hoped so.

Just as Sylvanas thought things could not get any worse, her mother decided to visit.

Not at moment’s notice of course, Lireesa Windrunner would never show such incivility, but only two weeks in advance, which by High noble standards might as well be. The only mercy was that Vereesa would be there as well.

* * *

Lireesa arrived in Fairbreeze with admirable subtlety. Only 60 house guards and a retinue of less than 20 people.

Three columns of dark green and gold, armed, armored and carrying Windrunner banners flowed up the road to Sylvanas’ lodge in perfectly synchronized trot. At the front Lireesa sat flanked by her Sword: lady Elina Dawnstrike on one side, and Vereesa on the other. At the back was what seemed like the entirety of Fairbreeze village, following the spectacle like a horde of headless chickens.

Sylvanas, despite spending the last four days cleaning and picking clothes, felt very self-conscious. There was this tiny spot of grime where the crescent met the oak on her brooch, and no amount of soap or magic had been able to get rid of it.

The columns came to a halt two steps in front of Sylvanas, several peasant had to scramble not to slam into one of the rearmost horses. Her mother spoke without bothering to dismount first. “Ranger Windrunner.” Of course she used military titles, couldn’t have something as pedestrian as familial bonds go to your daughter’s head.

“Ranger general, it is an honor to have you here.” Sylvanas didn’t have the mental fortitude to fight her.

“Invite me inside.” Lireesa commanded, as if Sylvanas was being extraordinarily insubordinate.

Lireesa surveyed Sylvanas’ hut like a bulwark on the eve of battle. Every book in her shelf was pulled out and inspected for both content and state. Every surface had a white gloved hand ran across it.

She finished inspecting the weapon rack, having of course taken each weapon down individually to test it’s sharpness, and counted the contents of the quiver twice, lest there be anything but 24 perfectly fletched arrows inside. “Well, everything seems to be within the range of acceptability, though I do wish you would take the care to clean your brooch every once in a while.” Sylvanas’ had to focus to keep her eye from twitching.

“Thank you mother, your blessing is important to me.”

“And yet here you remain, instead of in Silvermoon where you could do good for your house.”

“And yet here I remain, in service to Quel’Thalas.”

While the inspection had taken it’s course, Lireesa’s servants had conjured a pavilion, complete with marbled floors and a kitchen, lest the Windrunner matriarch be forced to enjoy her lunch in sub-par accommodations.

Sylvanas, Vereesa, and Lireesa sat down, and servants rushed to serve them in complete silence. Vereesa dutifully looked at her mother, to see if she would be allowed to speak, but Lireesa clearly had more on her mind.

They sat in silence for several minutes, as fruits, meats, and flatbreads were piled high in front of them. Sylvanas took a few grapes but didn’t eat, Vereesa nibbled on a piece of spiced flatbread, both cautiously awaiting whatever would happen next.

“So.” Lireesa spoke with a scarily saccharine voice, that perhaps was meant to sound casual. “I hear you and the lady Anasteria Dawnstar had an encounter. That I may prepare for the inevitable trial: is it romance, rivalry, or both?”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “Rivalry then. Well I suppose it has been a while since your last blades at dawn.”

“Mother please, she is a Dawnstar, her house would disown her if she were to draw her blade any time in the light of day.”

That got Lireesa to laugh, and both sisters made a small sigh of relief.

* * *

They got through the rest of the lunch with no major incidents.

Lireesa even restrained herself to suggesting only three spouses, Sylvanas had been expecting ten times that. Not that it meant the selection wasn’t the usual arrangement of mediocre to I-suppose-if-there-were-no-other-elves-left-in-Quel’Thalas:

  * Aella Dawnseeker was every bit the self-righteous mirror kisser as her father.
  * Vynna Hawkspear was a Hawkspear, and the less said about that the better.
  * Arial D’Anastasis had big ambitions and a small house, even if Sylvanas was interested, she would need to prove her ability to survive the courts of Silvermoon before anything could happen.

When all was said and done, and every spouse had been denied, Lireesa marched off as quickly and aggressively as she had appeared. Through equal parts luck and Vereesa’s doe eyes, she was allowed to stay the night with Sylvanas, under condition that Sylvanas got her on the first dragonhawk home in the morning.

After the columns of green and gold had disappeared into the forest, Sylvanas turned to her sister with a mischievous smile. “Well little Moon, what sorts of misadventures mother would disapprove of should we get up to first?”

Vereesa scraped the dirt with the tip of her boot. “Could we… talk about our feelings.”

“Oh.” Sylvanas said, realizing she had misread the situation. “Yes mother would certainly disapprove of that. I’ll make some tea.”

“So what’s ailing you Reesa?” They were sitting on separate branches looking out over the forest, the teapot was hanging from a rope between them.

“I’m having doubts.”

“About what Little Moon?” Sylvanas asked, pouring more tea for her sister.

“About studying conjuration, maybe even about… No it’s stupid, forget I said anything.” Vereesa hid her face behind her mug.

“Already forgotten. Now do you wanna hear about someone with real problems?” Sylvanas said equal parts teasing and supporting. She had strategically chosen not to climb into any fruit bearing tree, so as to deprive her sister of ammunition. Because of her time as Grand Magister Salonar’s apprentice, Vereesa of course no longer had need for such crude tools, as Sylvanas realized when a snowball splatered against her face.

Sylvanas turned to her sister with mock anger in her voice. “Vereesa Lorien Driana’Coria Elisande Quelith Windrunner! That is assault on a ranger of Quel’Thalas! You are lucky I’m not having you court-martialled .”

Vereesa yelped in panic, then her eyes began to wet as her lower lip quivered. “You.” She sniffed loudly. “You can’t do that.” Another, even louder sniff. “Can you?” Tears were now streaming down Vereesa’s face.

“Reesa, no don’t cry it was a joke.”

Her face turned around completely, becoming a smug grin Sylvanas found eerily similar to her own. “Aww, lady Moon, you do care about me.” Sylvanas’ knowledge of magic was limited to a few utility and combat spells, though throwing a wildfire bomb at her sister seemed oddly tempting in that moment.

* * *

They never got to talk about either of their problem, they just kept pestering each other until the tea ran out. Then one thing led to another and suddenly it was midnight and they were practicing archery against overripe peaches kept afloat by Vereesa’s magic. Sylvanas didn’t mind, far from it; she had long ago resigned herself to being the bad sister, and the outraged letter she would no doubt get from her mother for letting Vereesa eat pastries for dinner would fit right in with its’ many siblings.

There were much better people for Vereesa to talk about the troubles of adolescence with at Windrunner spire. For example, her other sister, who despite being a glorified political assassin, or perhaps because of it, maintained her position as flawless firstborn. That was just the kind of mother Lireesa Windrunner was.

Besides Sylvanas had better things to do than care about emotions, others or her own: There were treants to be chased off, pets stuck in trees, and a mystery of a strange amulet that wasn’t getting her anywhere, no matter how many magical encyclopedia’s she failed to find reference to a “Nametaker“ in.

So of course, just as Sylvanas was starting to get better, Veline showed up on her doorstep.

Sylvanas was halfway through closing the door on Veline when her conscience hit her in the back of the head like a pommel-strike. There was something unsettling about Veline’s face, as if she had tried and failed to cry several time, and her body was tearing itself apart from the need. Sylvanas’ voice cracked. “Lean… I, do you need me to kill someone?” How to comfort people in distress had been notably absent from both Sylvanas’ ranger and courtier training.

“No, I… Can I just sit here?” She said, gesturing to Sylvanas doorstep.

“Of course, go ahead, if you need me I’ll be inside.” And with that, Sylvanas got back to her book on the couch.

Meanwhile Veline just kept sitting idly on the doorstep, just sitting and staring into space.

Sitting and staring.

Sitting

And

Staring.

Sylvanas put down a bottle of brandy next to her, it was a good year, though she didn’t think Veline really had the propensity to appreciate that. “Do you want to talk about... You know?”

Veline uncorked the bottle and took a big swig, then began choking and coughing. “Yeah, you’re really more meant to sip that.” Sylvanas said apologetically.

Veline opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. That was the difference between the two of them, Sylvanas pride would have forced a snarky comeback from her no matter the circumstances.

Cautiously, Sylvanas wrapped a comforting arm around the peasant girl.

Eventually Veline spoke, or rather, mumbled. “She’s dead… My mom is dead.”

Tears and snot poured down her face and into Sylvanas’ cloak, while Sylvanas hugged her close and combed her hair with her hand. “I went to wake her, and she just…” Veline sniffed loudly. “She’s been sick for so long, but she was getting better, and now she’s not moving.”

Sylvanas didn’t speak, what would she even say? “I’m sorry your mom is dead and that I keep being the worst person you know.” Sylvanas tried, though it felt all sorts of wrong. After a moment’s consideration she added: “You deserve better.”

“It’s not fair.”

“It’s not.”

“She was a soldier Sylvanas! A dragonhawk rider!” Veline’s sadness was slowly turning to anger. “She fought war-bears! And jumped off the tallest spire in Quel-Thalas… Multiple times! Illness can’t kill a woman like that!”

Sylvanas had enough tact not to point out that evidently it could.

As if a bolt of lightning had hit Veline, her sobbing suddenly stopped. “She wouldn’t approve of me crying.” She untangled herself, stood up, and looked away from Sylvanas. “I need to speak with elder Cinderbloom and have minn’da cremated. Wouldn’t do to let her rot.”

“Veline?” Sylvanas asked cautiously, making the girl freeze mid-step.

“Yes?” Her voice cracked ever so slightly.

“Would you like me to go with you?”

Veline turned around to reveal the tears once more streaming down her face. “Yes please.”

* * *

The funeral proceedings went quicker than Sylvanas had ever expected, or really, was comfortable with. There were no vast estates or vaults full of relics to distribute, and only a single heir to give it to. Silrana Sharpvale hadn’t been in the habit of making friends either, and outside of a barely known cousin in Tranquillien who certainly wouldn’t attend, there was no family to inform.

Elder Cinderbloom did what she could to comfort and care for Veline, but Veline in turn was putting on a brave face which the elder didn’t know her well enough to see through. Much to her dismay, Sylvanas was coming to realize both daughter and mother’s lives had largely been resigned to each other and the farm.

Sylvanas spent the afternoon preparing the pyre together with Jennalla who had come as soon as she heard the news. Veline had asked for privacy to say her final farewells and prepare for the ritual, privacy which Sylvanas was ashamed to say, she was all too willing to give.

Early in the evening, one of Jennalla’s mothers came by to offer her condolences, and a maid job in her household should Veline want it. She promised to consider it, but Sylvanas could sense her mind was already made up. Now the farm was all Veline had, and she would fight to keep it alive.

As the sun neared the horizon, Lyana, her grandmother: elder Cinderbloom, and a priest from Highstand village made their appearance. Lyana had come to offer support, the elder and the priest was there to oversee the final rites. Veline greeted them all as guests in her house, then disappeared to regain control of her emotions before sunset.

When Sylvanas’ grandmother had been buried, she had been dressed in seven layers of the finest wool and silks, every embroidery was made with emerald dusted thread, and her cloak had been woven with gold. Together with her sisters and cousins (Lirath had been excused because of his age) she had spent three days covering her in ceremonial paints with brushes thin as razor blades, under the watchful eyes of an army of priests and elders. By the time of the procession, all three sisters were ready to cry from exhaustion, and Vereesa had to be whisked away by servants when she started to stumble on the walk through Sunwell Plateau.

Silrana, befitting of her station, would be carried nude to the pyre, so as to not waste functional garments. Her paints were wide and in several places smudged from wayward teardrops. The procession would go from the kitchen to the fire pit they had dug behind the farm that afternoon. All of this Sylvanas understood was necessary, perhaps even appropriate considering Silra’s status, still she felt as if something was missing.

Minutes before the sun was to disappear behind the horizon, it occurred to Sylvanas what she thought was missing. “Veline, I mean no disrespect, but I was wondering if you would let me give my sword to your mother’s pyre, it-” Veline stopped her. “She would not have liked the waste of metal, I thought the same with her own blade.” It was in Sylvanas nature to protest when people disagreed with her, yet to her own surprise she didn’t, no matter how wrong it felt to cremate a soldier without a weapon.

The sun reddened and a mournful song spread slowly from inside the house, first it was one voice then others joined in. Holding a lit candle, red as blood, Veline Sharpvale stepped out of the house, following the rhythm of the solemn tune she was singing. Behind her came three rangers, lending their voices as chorus, and carrying her mother’s earthly remains on a stretcher between them.

First Veline took a small step, then she sung a line of the funeral song, while the chorus sung their reply she took another step; then sung another line while the chorus took their step. Slowly, like the inevitable approach of death the ritual mimicked, they neared the funeral pyre where the elder and priest were waiting. Veline put on a brave face, but as she came close enough to feel the heat of the pyre, she began choking on her words; not enough to stop the procession, but enough that everyone could hear it.

Elder Cinderbloom extolled Silrana Sharpvale’s virtues, while the priest granted her final blessings. The rangers then lowered her unto the pyre and the tears streamed down Veline’s face.

When they could no longer see Silra’s silhouette among the fire, the priest offered them honeybread and warm wine as was customary, then excused themselves for the night. Jenalla, Lyana, and elder Cinderbloom stayed for low idle chatter for another hour. Veline had taken her ritual position as keeper of the flame to heart, and placed herself at the edge of the fire pit where she motionlessly looked into the burning remains of her only family. Sylvanas at last, had placed herself in such a way that she could pretend to be part of the others’ conversation, while looking at the peasant girl, longing to ease her pain in some way.

An hour after midnight the fire was starting to burn out, and Sylvanas and Veline were the only ones still left at the small farm. Veline hadn’t moved from her spot since the priest left.

“Would you like me to leave as well?” Sylvanas asked cautiously, and handed her a cup of warm (now tepid) wine.

“No!” Veline yelled. “No, I would like you to stay. That is, if you have nothing better to do.” Veline said having calmed herself a bit with a loud slurp from the offered cup.

“Okay.” Sylvanas sat down next to her, and together they stared at the embers in silence.

The pyre, much like the woman it was build for, staunchly refused to give out and the chill of the night was digging its claws into the two women watching it. Neither of them noticed, but minute by minute they moved closer to each until they were ear against ear. Eventually the last embers faded, and still, neither of them moved, fearing it would break the spell that had befallen them.

Veline began to shuffle, and Sylvanas resigned herself to the moment having faded. Veline however didn’t get up. Curious Sylvanas looked down and found Veline’s hand lying outstretched towards her. Ever so tenderly, Sylvanas moved her own hand out to meet it. First their fingers pushed against each other, then Sylvanas’ slid gently on top of Veline’s, and before either of them knew, they were holding hands.

“How are you feeling?” Sylvanas asked, worrying she was overstaying her welcome.

“Better. Because you are here.” Veline choked on a tear, and lent against Sylvanas for support.

Sylvanas ran her fingers through Veline’s tangled black hair and sung a calming song to help prepare the peasant for her last duties of the night. It was a slow and quiet song, neither happy nor sad, about a mother missing her daughter who was off seeing the world.

“Don’t sleep now sweetest.” Sylvanas said, and for a heart wrenching moment she heard Veline drowsily asking: “minn’da?” before coming to her senses. Sylvanas did not say anything, she merely helped Veline to stand and gave her the urn, to do what had to be done.

When the task was done, Sylvanas looked to Veline, who was holding, but decidedly not looking at the remains of Silrana Sharpvale - Daredevil, mother, and to Veline: hero.

“Is there anything more I can do for you Veline? Should I heat more wine for you or just leave you to your grief.”

Veline held the urn tightly to her chest, and looked somehow both bigger and smaller than Sylvanas had ever seen her before. “I was wondering if I might show you something?”

Before Sylvanas could answer, Veline’s courage left her again. “It’s, it’s a bit of a walk, so maybe another day?”

“You decide bright-heart, I have nowhere better to be, but I respect if you need your beauty sleep.” Thanks to Ranger Lord Brightwing’s relentless drilling, Sylvanas knew for a fact she could go days without sleep and on a mostly empty stomach.

“Oh, um, well it’s this way.” Veline said and gestured north into the forest.

As they walked, Sylvanas cautiously took Veline’s hand. Veline froze for a moment but made no move towards letting Sylvanas have her hand back. Sylvanas looked over to see Veline’s ears standing straight up, and had to quickly look away to hide the blush spreading across her own cheeks and all the way up to her ears.

The road sloped upwards, Sylvanas was vaguely aware that they had to be nearing the edge of her domain, but suddenly standing atop a cliff’s edge looking out over northern Quel’Thalas took her breath away. Like a green river dampened by moonlight, Eversong woods stretched out before her, the spires of countless noble houses sticking out between the tree tops like rocks in the stream.

Veline sat down and let her legs dangle over the edge, Sylvanas followed suit.

“This was me and mom’s sacred place. We would come here when things went wrong, and look out over the world, and somehow we just knew it would all be right.”

“Like when an arrogant ranger refused to help repair the farm?”

Veline chuckled. “Yes like when that happened, but that’s in the past now.”

Sylvanas looked at Veline with the utmost sincerity. “You are much too kind lady Sharpvale.”

Veline chuckled again and turned her gaze back to the forest beneath. “So I’ve been told, mostly by minn’da.”

The quiet of the night was slowly descending upon them again when Sylvanas spoke. “My mother said that about me too, back when we spoke out of friendship not obligation.”

Veline squeezed her hand tight. “You never talk about her.”

“There’s not much to say, she wants one thing, I want another, and it tore us apart.”

“I think it might do you good to give word to your thoughts Sylvanas. If you want I will listen.”

Now it was Sylvanas turn to lean on the other woman to gather strength.

“Mother always believed Talanas Windrunner was robbed of the throne of Silvermoon, an opinion she shares with most of the house and our vassals. Had it not been for the actions of my house founder, Quel’Thalas would have torn itself asunder. In return he was given a title which kept him from the courts and to add insult to injury, he could not even pass the title to his children. Or at least that’s the story mother told me when I still slept in her spire.”

“I don’t understand Sylvanas.”

“Because you’re not used to the games of high nobility. Alleria was born to become the Ranger General once mother sees fit to retire. From the moment I spoke my first words, mother had me trained as a courtier, I suspect she planned for me to dethrone the Sunstriders. Vereesa is underway to becoming the youngest grand magister since Elisande of Suramar, much to the chagrin of house Dawnstar who has been trying to claim the title for 3 millennia. Lirath was a contingency, meant to replace one of should we pass away prematurely, so he is now being trained in the ways of the court.”

“Because you became a ranger?”

Sylvanas nodded. “Because I went against my mother’s wishes, and had one of her rivals take me as initiate.”

“I’m sorry.” Veline wished she had something more comforting to say.

“Don’t be.” Sylvanas subtly wiped her eyes on her sleeves. “As punishment for my insubordination, she assigned me a tired little village on the trade route through the Aurendar hills, and look where that got me.” Sylvanas smiled broadly at Veline.

“You’re such a charmer lady Windrunner.”

“So I’ve been told.” Sylvanas grinned cheekily.

In lieu of a witty reply, Veline kissed her cheek gently, and Sylvanas’ heart skipped a beat.

* * *

The air itself seemed to quiet as the three rangers gathered in the dead of the night. The dining table had been dragged into the center of the hut, and spread across it was a map of southern Eversong, hidden under a layer of the rangers’ detritus.

Sylvanas was the first to speak, after what felt like hours of strained silence. “There is no use denying it: for a year we have been investigating Vassarin Dawnstar, and we are still none the wiser about his schemes or the Nametaker.”

Lyana and Jennalla murmured in agreement.

“The dagger has failed us, I say its time we use our swords.”

“Do you have a plan or just tall words ranger Windrunner?” Jennalla did not seem impressed.

“Least favorite child of his house that the captain may be, he is still high nobility, and used to a certain standard of living. We know he spends no more time at the lodge than he absolutely has to, and keeps only the bare minimum of servants present.”

“Which means?” Lyana was cautiously interested after so much time of nothing.

“That there is no way he spends the nights at the lodge, but might keep secrets there because of the assumption that he does.”

“And do you plan to just dispose of any servants he might have left to care for these secret?” Jennalla’s voice left no question as to the answer she expected.

“Are you familiar with Wyvern’s sting ranger Deemspring? It’s a sleep inducing poison invented by the Farstriders, one my sister has taught me to brew. Surely no one will be suspicious of the servants dozing off for a bit during a long night’s watch?”

Lyana was giddy with excitement, Jennalla remained skeptical but agreed to join out of loyalty to the cause.

The Aurendar lodge lay in the middle of a large clearing, a short walk from the trade route to Sunsail Anchorage, and less than an hour on foot from the village of Highstand that Jennalla called her home. The large, circular, single-floor lodge had been build during the first troll wars as one of a network across Quel’Thalas, to be used as scouting outpost or command center as the war required. When the war had been won, and the ranger hierarchy formalized, the lodge, like many of its kind, had been given as home to ranger captains, and been adapted for peacetime living. Ranger captain Dawnstar however, had let the lodge fall to disrepair, and attempted to hide it under large sheets of oiled cloth in the garish blackish-blues and whites of house Dawnstar. Sylvanas joke about that itself meriting execution did not land as well as she had hoped.

The trio approached from the northeast where the forest was thickest. Being the best marksman of them, Sylvanas was the one to take the shot against the solitary Dawnstar houseguard standing watch by the door. The distance was short, and unlike the three rangers, the guard was wearing no armor besides the shield she was leaning against, but this did not make the shot any easier. They needed the arrow to only pierce flesh deep enough to deliver the venom and not cause any lasting damage.

Sylvanas took a steadying breath, loosened the draw on her short bow ever so slightly, took aim at the houseguard’s thigh, and let fly.

The arrow struck true, and the guard had just enough time to cry out before the venom took effect and guard, shield and sword clattered against the wooden terrace floor.

Lyana sped across the open field, healing magic at her fingertips, and Jennalla right behind. Sylvanas followed 20 steps behind, poison arrow at the ready.

“Mathrie wha-” Jennalla’s grabbed the newly emerged servant around the waist, placing a hand in front of her mouth before swinging her around into Sylvanas’ line of fire. She collapsed into Jennalla’s arms with an arrow through her shoulder.

“You nearly hit me.” Jennalla hissed, and gently removed the arrow from the woman in her arms.

“But I didn’t.” Sylvanas poked her head inside the lodge to ensure there would be no more unexpected inhabitants coming their way.

When Sylvanas had declared the coast clear, and Lyana had lessened the wounds as best she could, they carried the servant back to her quarters, and sat the houseguard against her shield. Then went searching.

The inside of the lodge was markedly better maintained than the outside. Despite the clumsy repairs blocking out the light, there was a genuine warmth to the place. Every piece of furniture had seen recent dusting, every carpet seemed freshly washed, and the kitchen was pristine though not from disuse.

They quickly found their way to Vassarin’s office. The room stood out like a sore thumb, with clutter wall to wall, paper littering the floor, and a towering pile of dirty dishes, like a rebellious and spoiled adolescent, teetered on the edge of the heavy ash-wood table.

Knowing their time was limited, the three rangers set to work. At first all they got for their troubles was ink stained brigandines, and the joy of reading the ranger captain’s abandoned letters to family and dignitaries. That changed very quickly when Sylvanas and Lyana simultaneously discovered grooves in the floor, allowing the table to be pushed backwards and revealing a secret hatch leading downwards.

The hatch led down into a large open room, build with magic and with little care for comfort. Two magelights hanging in the air above a table on the left hand side where the only thing keeping the room lit.

From the moment Sylvanas stepped off the ladder, it was clear this was the lab of someone playing with the arcane in ways the magister’s wouldn’t approve of. It was almost too easy, Sylvanas thought to herself, before realizing her knowledge of magic was barely rudimentary, and if his office was anything to go by, Vassarin had no interest in keeping his thoughts organized. Hailing from a house of mages and priests, Lyana was the most knowledgeable of the three, if only slightly.

“It’s something relating to void magic, though not in a manner I have seen before.” Lyana said, holding an ancient scroll upside down, as if trying to make it physically spill its secrets.

“This is Zandali script, but I don’t recognize the dialect.” Sylvanas gestured to the brass tablet in her hands.

“What in the Light’s shiny cunt?” Jennalla yelled out from the opposite end of the room.

In a dark alcove, half hidden beneath ritual supplies, in the jaws of a strange, anglerfish-like device, tall as an adult, lay the corpse of an elf. No not corpse, he was still breathing quietly, though he was the furthest thing from alive:

His eyes were foggy white orbs, as devoid of light as the rest of his now pale body. His skin hung limply off his bones, showing starvation beyond what anyone should have been able to survive. In the space where his face should be there was just nothing; two glazed eyeballs seemingly floating in a windless, ocean of pale flesh.

The creature, cause Sylvanas could not find it in herself to even think of it as an elf, seemed strangely familiar. The clothes were of higher quality than what peasants could afford, though not to the standards of Silvermoon, making Sylvanas think he was low nobility. His identity still kept escaping her, as if his name had been turned to water now running through her fingers as she tried to grasp it. The two other rangers had similar problem placing the creatures origin.

Then she saw it, lodged inside the creature’s chest, spreading its vile tendrils like a circle of stars, was an all too familiar amulet of grey stone, with a single piece of once more uncracked turquoise amber at its heart.

All three stared in slight terror at the Nametaker. There was no doubt that the artifact, wherever it had come from, had turned a living sentient individual, into a pale mockery of life.

Sylvanas took a calming breath and looked to her partners in crime. “We have what we came for, grab as many journals as you can carry, by this time tomorrow Vassarin Dawnstar will be the prey of the Farstriders and a blight upon his house.”

Placing her dagger where flesh met stone, Sylvanas gently pressed the blade downwards in an attempt to wedge the Nametaker free without causing further harm. Just as the dagger pierced flesh, a strange flash came from the Nametaker’s center, not bright, but not dark either, a light that swallowed light. This dark light spread like rings in the water across the creature’s body, and ever so slowly it came to life.


	5. Dawnstar's Demise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posted exactly at 00:01 Thursday, cause I'm really hyped to see what people think of this chapter. 
> 
> Spoiler alert: I crammed a lot of romance tropes into this one

Slowly the faceless creature began to move, hobbling towards the rangers on bony legs as its’ flesh stretched and warped. Its fingers grew into slender tendrils, and its nails melted into grotesque knife-like protrusions. Empty veins surfaced and filled with black venom that burst and petrified. The eyes shuttered and were devoured by a vile gibbering maw.

A voice older than time echoed in Sylvanas head.

** _By your hand the future is shaped, will it be to your liking?_ **

Sylvanas had no time to ponder, as a bladed tentacle struck at her neck.

With little time to react, Sylvanas only option was to let herself fall backwards onto the floor. She hit the stone hard, but her head remained attached to her body.

She had no time to catch her breath before she had to roll out of the way of a second strike.

The third strike came crashing down upon her from above, scraping the roof of the chamber as it went. The tendril was sent flying as Jennalla, wielding Obstinance, severed it at the elbow.

Still in flight, the tendril reattached itself without any great deal of effort, but Lyana was on the creature, flinging a wildfire bomb its’ chest.

It did little to delay it, and Lyana took a deep gash across her shoulder for her aggression.

Now Sylvanas had found her footing, in a desperate gamble for advantage she nocked and fired the last three wywern sting arrows into the faceless creature’s chest.

The creature stopped and stumbled for just a moment, but the rangers didn’t let up. Jennalla went left with Obstinance, Lyana went right with dagger and sword, Sylvanas stayed back, emptying her quiver in the time most people could dress themselves.

Their assault pushed the creature against the wall, but did little to stop it. When they didn’t strike petrified blood, the wounds simply closed behind their weapons.

A moments’ inattentiveness saw Jennalla grabbed by the leg and flung into the table that broke beneath her.

Sylvanas hurried over to take her place at the Faceless’ left flank.

Jennalla wasn’t getting back up fast enough, and Sylvanas only had her dagger to defend herself.

They were losing ground quickly, Sylvanas had yet to sustain any major injuries, but Lyana’s shoulder was bleeding profusely, and Jennalla was yet to get off the floor. If Sylvanas didn’t do something quickly to change the tides they would not leave the basement.

“Lya, boost me.” Sylvanas gave Lyana no time to react before she ran straight at her. Lyana just barely managed to get her hands ready to launch Sylvanas upwards into a backflip.

Stepping along the ceiling to guide her descent, Sylvanas landed on the Faceless’ shoulders, and smashed the dagger into the Nametaker.

The turqoise amber cracked open like spun sugar, and the creature fell to the floor, crackling with energy.

The trio looked to each other, then to the husk glowing and rattling on the floor, then back to each other. “Out!” They all yelled in unison, and more leapt than climbed up the hatch.

The explosion rocked the foundation of the lodge, no doubt waking the houseguard and servant. Jennalla coughed up blood and Lyana was scrambling to try and bind her wound. Sylvanas first thought was to get back down there.

The lab was in ruins, hot ectoplasm had singed most of the journals, and shards of petrified blood has buried itself in every soft surface. Sylvanas paid it no mind, focusing on freeing the Nametaker from the remains of the creature’s torso, breaking bones and chopping flesh as she worked.

When Sylvanas surfaced, Jennalla was wobbly on her feet and clutching a broken rib, Lyana was pale around the ears but otherwise fit for fight. Sylvanas showed them the Nametaker as explanation, then quickly stuffed it in a pouch, as if fearing it would run off on its own.

Moments later the houseguard came crashing through the door to the office. “What in the Sunwell-”

“Official ranger bussiness.” Sylvanas sneered, and fixed her with a glare normally reserved for sisters who stole her banana bread.

“I understand.” The houseguard stammered. “Carry on your ladyships.” She bowed low enough to drop her helmet and scampered off, not daring to pick it up as she went.

“Lets get out of here before she has second thoughts.”

After leaving the Aurendar lodge, they gathered under the shadow of a large birch.

“We’re fucked.” Jennalla stammered in between coughing fit.

“We’re not fucked, we won.” Sylvanas replied with an eye roll.

“Care to elaborate Sylvanas? Cause to me it seems like we just committed a crime against house Dawnstar.” Lyana did not have the strength to maintain optimism either.

“No we didn’t. House Windrunner allegedly committed a crime against house Dawnstar. By the time his brother has given Vassarin permission to move against us, mother will have heard of the Nametaker’s powers, and we will have a letter stating we were working on the Ranger General’s orders all along.”

“Or, Captain Dawnstar does something rash, seeing as his plans are crumbling, and unleashes whatever dark magic he learned from the Nametaker upon all of us.” Jennalla wasn’t angry, Sylvanas realized, she was scared. Her eyes kept flicking around them, her ears were perked up at rapt attention, and her hand was white knuckling Obstinance.

“Deemspring spire isn’t much further from here than your home, go there with Lyana and spend the night. No matter how rash he might act, he won’t have the forces to take a spire.”

“I… Yes, that sounds like a good idea, but what about you?” Jennalla and Lyana both relaxed at Sylvanas suggestion.

“I will be going home and writing a strongly worded letter for my mother, then have it on a Dragonhawk going south with the first ray of dawn.”

Lireesa Windrunner was a woman of propriety. And propriety demanded rangers relay their reports in letters, so a letter she would get.

Despite the adventurous night, it was only a little past midnight when Sylvanas returned to her hut. The whole way home she had been planning the letter in her head, but as she pulled out quill and parchment, and sat down to write… nothing, no words not even a single letter, just mindless scribbles in the corner meaning no matter what she wrote, it would have to be rewritten on an unsullied paper.

Right up until the moment Sylvanas opened her writing drawer, she swore she knew whether to start the letter with “ranger general” or “mother“. The more she glared at the letter, the less the very Thalassian language seemed to make sense to her.

Against expectations she somehow managed to finish the letter while both mother and child still hung high in the skies. Then she wrote it once more without the unseemly strikethroughs and ink blotches. Her calligraphy was only passable, and she could sense she was missing a few apostrophes but it would have to do.

The sun was still but a distant memory, and Sylvanas was at a crossroad, either she dragged the flightmaster from bed, or give herself what little sleep she could, before dawn took the stage.

Ultimately, Sylvanas’ greed and the call of sleep won out. It would do her little good was she to doze off when she stood in front of her mother. She stripped on her way to bed, leaving her clothes haphazardly thrown across the floor. The Nametaker still in the pouch where she had left it.

* * *

Ranger Lord Brightwing had made a point of training her apprentices in constant vigilance, even while sleeping. Sylvanas had lost count of the amount of times she had been woken by icy water in her face for letting sleep drown out the sound of unknown footsteps. It was that training which kept her story from ending that night.

Sylvanas was still halfway in the realm of dreams as she brought up her hands to stop the dagger being plunged at her heart.

In a single graceful move, Sylvanas rolled out of both bed and the haze of sleep, landing on her feet, facing her would-be assassin.

Across her stood Anasteria Dawnstar, armed and armored, her dark blue hair braided into her ranger cloak.

Sylvanas smirked, well aware the odds were against her. No amount of skill would level the field while Sylvanas remained nude and Anasteria a competent fighter. Sylvanas needed to either get into her head, or a weapon of her own, preferably both.

“Oh, Lady Dawnstar? How did you hide all those dwarven percussionist so quickly?”

“I will carve your heart from your chest!” Anasteria yelled and ran towards Sylvanas around the bed.

“With those shaky, engorged hands?” Sylvanas leapt back across the bed and headed for the door. “Are you sure you had not better leave it to some qualified peasant?”

Sylvanas smashed open the door with her shoulder, then flung it back around, using it as a shield against Anasteria’s dagger and sword.

“With such oven mitts, one can’t help but wonder how you bring any partner pleasure.” Sylvanas pulled back the door and slammed it against Anasteria, hearing one of her weapons clatter against the floor.

Seizing the moment, Sylvanas dove across the room for her weapon rack.

“No you don’t!” Anasteria yelled from behind her, and grabbed her leg.

Sylvanas twisted and kicked, hitting her bare foot against the metal of Anasteria’s pauldron.

“Where’s your silver tongue now?” Anasteria said and brought the dagger down upon Sylvanas once more.

“I must have lost it.” Sylvanas said and punched the hand holding the dagger. “Up your sister!”

The dagger bit deep into the wooden floor, and rather than retrieve it, Anasteria climbed on top of Sylvanas, and begun whaling on her with bare fists.

Sylvanas got one hand free from beneath Anasteria’s legs quickly, and used it to protect her face as best she could. The other hand frantically scraped around for something to turn the fight, before her skull became concave.

Her hand closed around the edge of her belt, and never had she been more happy for her bachelorette tendencies. She pulled the belt to her, and blindly rummaged through her pouch for a weapon, however improvised.

Her hand clasped around a slender stone object with a sharpened point. The Nametaker! For a terrifying split-second, Sylvanas saw herself stabbing it into Anasteria’s exposed lower leg. No, better to die to a cut-rate ranger like Anasteria Dawnstar, than inflict that fate on another living being. She let go of the artifact and begun searching again.

The repeated head trauma must have knocked a memory loose, cause suddenly Sylvanas realized whose soul had been stolen to create the Faceless under the lodge.

“Is what happened to your husband common Dawnstar mating practice, or was it just your sparkly personality?”

Anasteria blinked twice in confusion. “I don’t have a husb-” Then something flashed before her eyes, and she grabbed her head in pained dizziness.

In the moment, Sylvanas could not care less what had brought on Anasteria’s migraine. She pushed the armored woman backwards off of her, into a standing position.

Wasting not time, Sylvanas yanked the dagger free of the floorboards. Realizing what was happening, Anasteria brought up her arms in self defense.

Sylvanas was faster, and the dagger bit diagonally up into Anasteria stomach, just under the lowest buckle of her brigandine.

Anasteria thrashed wildly to get Sylvanas off her, but Sylvanas remained focused. Using the dagger as a handle, she shoved Anasteria into the dining table, twisting the knife to keep her paralyzed.

With her free hand, Sylvanas grabbed a bottle left on the table, and with all her might swung it against Anasteria’s head. Anasteria, who had been desperately trying to pull the dagger out of herself, had no time to bring up her arms before the bottle shattered her skull, concussing her, and sending bloodstained shards flying across the floor.

Using the remains of the bottle as a knife, Sylvanas jammed it into Anasteria’s exposed throat, carving a wide, crimson swath that left the other ranger struggling in vain for air.

Sylvanas left Anasteria to her death throes, and dressed herself as quick as she could.

A full quiver of arrows, with accompanying shortbow, the letter for her mother in a scroll case, the Nametaker safely in a pouch, and a sword on each hip, and Sylvanas was ready to ride.

As a final mercy, she threw her now ruined bed linens over Anasteria’s mangled corpse. No family in mourning needed to see the reality of combat like that.

Something was not right. Even if the houseguard had rushed straight off to find Vassarin, he should not have been able to get an assassination attempt ready so quickly. He was an incompetent ranger captain, the least favorite of his house, who had fallen into the title through nothing but his brother’s mercy and its’ lack of desirability. Or so the house Dawnstar claimed.

Sylvanas was an idiot! Artifacts like the Nametaker didn’t just land in someone’s lap, and you didn’t hand them out to the shame of the house with someone like Dar’Khan Drathir at the head. No you gave it to someone in an isolated area of Goldenbough, who suffered little to no oversight in his work, and could freely punish any local who would oppose him. Then you made a big show of putting him at the edge of the family, so that should his work be discovered, you could wash your hands of it.

As her horse galloped along the narrow route to Veline’s home, Sylvanas could do naught but hope house Deemspring had built their walls thick and high.

The door was locked and no light burned inside the Sharpvale farm. Sylvanas hammered on the door and called Veline’s name, mentally counting upwards to 10 before she would break the frame.

On the count of 7 she heard Veline’s sleep drunk voice from within. “Sylvanas? Is that you?”

“Veline, my heart, are you well?” Sylvanas voice betrayed her fears.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Veline opened the door and recoiled at Sylvanas’ bloody and bruised face. “What happened.”

“The captain did something rash.” Sylvanas grunted and led Veline back inside. “I worried he might come for you next.” Sylvanas added, letting her behavior soften.

“What of ranger Cinderbloom and Deemspring?” Veline stopped dead in her track, fear creeping over her.

“In Deemspring spire, I’ll ride to them next, but I must see you safe first.” Sylvanas grabbed clothes for Veline and handed them to her.

“What can I do to help.” They looked at each other for a long moment, Veline summoning all her determination to convince Sylvanas.

“Have you ever ridden a dragonhawk?”

Veline shook her head.

“Then you’ll have to take my horse.” Sylvanas pulled out the scrollcase with the letter, then took off her Windrunner house brooch.

“I don’t understand.”

Sylvanas looked deep into Veline’s eyes. “You need to ride, fast as you can to Windrunner spire. Take the road going south, and when you reach Tranquillien, show my brooch to the magisters and demand they portal you to Windrunner spire. When you reach the spire, repeat these words exactly: I am Veline Sharpvale, handmaiden to Sylvanas Windrunner, I bring an urgent letter for the Ranger General. If you are questioned, simply show them my brooch and repeat your demands, do not take no for an answer. Keep the letter close, and trust it to nobody but mother or Alleria. Do you understand?” Veline nodded, her lips narrowed in determination.

“What are you to say when you reach the spire?”

“I am Veline Sharpvale, handmaiden to Sylvanas Windrunnner, I bring an urgent letter for the Ranger General.”

“Good, now show me your knife.” Sylvanas said, reaching into her pocket for the Nametaker.

“I haven’t been practicing.” Veline apologized as she rummaged through her bedside table for the knife meant for combat not training.

“Arms close to your body, push your advantage, and remember: one moment’s inattentiveness is all it takes.” Sylvanas explained as Veline solemnly attached the sheath to her belt.

Remembering the knife’s hollow handle, Sylvanas gently but insistently took it out of Veline’s hand. “Whu-” Sylvanas held up her hand showing the Nametaker, the cracked amber already healing once more, and unscrewed the pommel. “Mother will need evidence of captain Dawnstar’s transgressions. Whatever you do, do not admit to having the artifact to anyone but my mother, if asked, say it’s buried under the floorboards in my hut.”

Sylvanas returned the dagger to Veline who put it back in its’ sheath while trying not to touch the handle. “I am Veline Sharpvale, handmaiden to Sylvanas Windrunnner, I bring an urgent letter for the Ranger General.” She repeated to herself, trying to memorize all the instructions as they walked towards Sylvanas’ horse.

Sylvanas’ took her hand “Veline?”

“Yeah?” Veline said, putting on a brave face.

Sylvanas paused, unsure what she had wanted to say. “If it’s your life or the artifact, let them have the artifact.”

Tears welled up in Veline’s eyes, as she watched Sylvanas saddle her old draft horse. As if sensing the danger its’ mistress was about to face, Sylvanas horse neighed impatiently, making it clear it would much rather be at her side, than carrying some sleepy peasant off on an errand.

Sylvanas ran a calming hand along the horse’s back, then gave Veline’s hand one last comforting squeeze. “Now go. GO!”

“Wait!” Veline yelled, but Sylvanas had already kicked the draft horse into canter, leaving the peasant girl sitting with her arm reaching into thin air. “I love you.” She yelled as Sylvanas disappeared among the trees.

Sylvanas pretended not to hear Veline’s voice behind her, wiping away a stray tear with her sleeve. Wouldn’t do to be distracted when she was facing the wrath of house Dawnstar.

As Sylvanas rode, the sun rose angrily behind her. She stayed off the main roads for both stealth and speed, where backroads failed, Sylvanas pushed the poor horse through undergrowth.

Three fourths of the way through the Highstand domain, Sylvanas’ burrowed horse began to stumble. Sylvanas leapt and continued on foot, leaving the horse to it’s fate. Docile and strong that it was, Sylvanas expected it would rest for a while then find it’s way home, if it didn’t Sylvanas could buy four replacements for less than she spent on a good shirt.

Deemspring spire was every bit as ancient as Windrunner spire, though neither as vast nor as elaborate. A single ivory tower stretched out from the mountainside towards the sky. Two walls, one bigger than the other, surrounded the spire, both clad with rows of shield displaying the empty quiver sigil of house Deemspring. Attached to the side of the spire were several stone rings, held aloft as much by magic as architecture, from which archers and mages could rain down destruction on attackers. From the top of the spire, a column of magelight shot ever upwards, besieging all allies of the house for help.

Fully staffed and prepared, Deemspring spire had in the past withstood the might of three houses at once. In its current state, both the inner and outer gate stood open, with no visible defenders manning the rings.

Resisting her urge to storm in, Sylvanas climbed over the wall where it met the mountain. Quietly as she could, with bow strung and arrow nocked she moved towards the spire. The outer courtyard was just as empty as the exterior, making Sylvanas worry she was too late.

The inner courtyard showed clear signs of battle, two houseguards wearing Deemspring’s yellow and bright green lay dead on the ground. Next to them lay, what Sylvanas could only describe as: a tangled mess of limbs from all manner of creatures, bound together with neither sense nor reason.

Sylvanas’ time to survey the scene was cut short, when she heard a scream from within the spire.

Sylvanas threw aside her bow and quiver by the door, it would only get in the way in the narrow corridors of the spire. Hurrying up the stairs, Sylvanas unsheathed her swords and vaulted over another lifeless mass of limbs, this one purple where the other was gray-ish blue. She followed the sound of fighting into a study, here she saw an elf around her mother’s age, fending off a multi-armed creature, while keeping a girl younger than Vereesa safely behind her. The woman’s left arm hung mangled down her side, but her right arm was still unharmed and holding up a longsword.

Sylvanas waited unseen a moment at the entrance to the study, until the creature lurched towards the woman. Sylvanas seized the opening, slashing her right-hand sword into its side until she scraped bone.

The creature turned the twisting mess it called a head towards Sylvanas, and with her left-hand sword she sliced its head from its body.

The woman and Sylvanas sized each other up.

“Down!” The words didn’t reach Sylvanas mind before she had thrown herself to the ground. To her great fortune, as she otherwise would have been felled by the creature she thought she had just dispatched.

The woman feinted towards the writhing mass of limbs, drawing its attention for long enough for Sylvanas to regain her footing.

From each of the wounds Sylvanas had inflicted, a new clawed limb had sprouted. Undeterred, Sylvanas ran at it, swords poised to strike.

As the creature readied for a counterstrike, Sylvanas slid on to her knees, letting her momentum carry her between the creature’s legs, and slicing through both its tendons.

The creature sagged, but didn’t fall. The woman lunged forward, spearing the creature through the heart with practiced grace. It squealed, then unwound like a coarsely washed garment, before melting into a puddle on the floor that quickly coagulated.

“Will you require healing.” Sylvanas wasted no time in asking.

“No, I’ve had worse.” Lenara Deemspring said grimly, wrapping her arm in improvised bandages as she walked

Sylvanas, being the least injured outside of the three, led them upstairs. Finding the third floor empty, Sylvanas dared speak. “I’m Sylvanas Windrunner, a friend of your daughter.” Sylvanas said, having recognized Jennalla wide lips and staunch face in her mother and sister. “Your other daughter.” She clarified.

“Lenara, and this is my youngest: Velonara.” The woman spoke informally, whether from tenseness or habit Sylvanas cared not. “The attacks started about an hour ago, suppose that’s what we get for underestimating your house’s ability to bring ruin to our doorstep.

The fourth floor showed signs of battle, including the corpse of a houseguard and several dismembered tentacles. Other than that, it was empty like the floors before it.

“That makes us equals lady Deemspring, I took captain Dawnstar for a fool, now I’m less certain.”

The fifth and sixth floor showed nothing new. “Oh he is a fool, but a dangerous fool with the ear of Dar’Khan Drathir.”

On the seventh floor they could hear shuffling of legs and hands banging against wood from above. Moving to investigate, they found several of the creatures attempting to break down the heavy stone door leading to the roof. Others were mulling around the floor trying to find another way up.

Seeing the runes of protection on the door hold firm, Sylvanas breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Lenara for help with formulating a plan to aid the people barricaded on the roof.

Lenara took one look at the creatures scratching at the door, unsheathed her sword, and bellowed: “First to the fray!” with all her might.

The stone door sprung open into a row of swords and spears, pushing the creatures downwards, as a choir of voices replied. “Last from the field!”

With no other choice, Sylvanas joined Lenara’s assault on the creature’s rear flank.

Sylvanas hacked and carved as best she could, from every wound sprang a new limb, but the chaos made accurate strikes impossible. She couldn’t even tell how many creatures they were fighting, much less if they were making an impact on their numbers.

Then the rest of the creatures spread around the floor got wise to the fighting and came barreling down upon them.

Now there was no doubt of which way the fight was going, and it wasn’t in favor of house Deemspring and its’ allies.

A houseguard was grabbed by the mass and slammed into a wall. Lenara tried to cut her way to them, and was herself swarmed.

“Minn’da!” Sylvanas heard Jennalla yell before she too joined the fray, Obstinance in one hand, shield in the other.

“Retreat! Back behind the gate.” Sylvanas ordered, blatantly ignoring what little chain of command they had established. Their plan of attack was heading for disaster, and someone needed to course correct. It was only fair it be her, it was her mistake that had landed them in this fight to begin with.

Sylvanas turned around and strode down the stairs, placing herself in the way of further reinforcements. With the calm of death hanging above her, she swung at the first creature coming at her. The elven blade passed gracefully between the creature’s ribs, cutting all the way into it’s heart, making the creature dissolve.

Sylvanas would face her fate standing, knowing her actions led to the safety of others. In time Alleria would arrive with the Windrunner houseguard and clean her mess.

She had not been quick enough to withdraw her right hand blade from the creature, and it was now stuck in a pile of wax-like melted hands. For the second creature that came at her, she kicked its knee, making it stumble, then grabbed it by its’ “chest” and used her entire bodyweight to throw it through a window.

Swinging her left hand blade in an upwards arc, Sylvanas severed a creature’s arm at the joint, and let go off the blade, sending it flying in an arch over the creature’s head. She then grabbed the sword in a reverse grip with her right hand, and plunged it through the gap in the creature’s collarbone. This time she made sure to withdraw it before the creature could coagulate.

By now, Sylvanas had made her way into the large sitting room at the center of the floor. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place she had envisioned herself dying, but it was ideal for its’ purpose: Lots of furniture to use as cover, decorative weapons hanging along the walls in case her remaining arms got stuck, and several entry ways leaving her easy pickings for the creatures.

Sylvanas unsheathed her dagger, lowered herself into a fighting stance, and smirked as the magical gate to the top floor shut with a heavy thud. Now all that was left for her was to prolong the inevitable, every second she lasted, was another second the for the arcane lock to recharge. It was a fool’s hope Sylvanas knew, by now Veline would at most be halfway to Tranquillien, from there she still needed to capture the ear of however many nobles and officials, before the Windrunner Houseguard could even begin mobilizing.

The first creature to attack her came from behind, Sylvanas had let it think she hadn’t seen it. When she heard it lunge, she spun around, missing the creature’s heart with her dagger by a finger’s width.

The second creature came not moments later, and with a scissor strike, Sylvanas severed its head and knocked it to the floor.

Her follow up was denied as a third and fourth creature came for her, forcing her into a defensive stance as bladed tentacles lashed out against her.

When a fifth creature came for her, Sylvanas only choice was to leap off a couch straight into the air to avoid all the attacks at once.

She landed less than gracefully, but ready to defend herself, the next strike against her however was interrupted as a shield struck the creature’s skull, caving it in.

As two new hands emerged from the wound, Jennalla kicked the creature in the chest, sending it backwards and knocking it prone.

“Aim for the heart!” Sylvanas yelled, and as if on command, Lyana appeared, throwing a heavy dagger at the creature that broke ribs and lodged itself in it’s heart.

The trio of rangers moved back to back into the center of the room. They were surrounded, and more creatures kept coming seemingly out of nowhere.

“Why are you here?” Sylvanas asked, circling with the others to take stock of the situation.

“Loyalty, Home, Hearthfire.” Lyana recited her house words, and moved her short-glaive to a stabbing form.

“Can’t let a Windrunner outfight me.” Jennalla explained, tapping her shield to warn the others of an incoming attack.

Moving forward, Jennalla slammed a creature to the side with her shield, making it wide open to Lyana’s glaive.

Another creature came to exploit the opening in their formation, but Sylvanas was on it, slicing at the leg so that Jennalla could finish it with a thrust.

Lyana grabbed a creature with the hook of her glaive, swinging it right into Sylvanas’ waiting dagger.

Then they returned to center, breathing out.

The creatures circled them like starving hounds, waiting for the right moment to strike.

One of the creatures made to strike against them, Jennalla moved her shield to block it, Lyana swung her glaive to counter, and Sylvanas guarded the flank. It was only a feint, and both creatures and rangers quickly returned to formation.

The pattern repeated itself several times, the creatures had just a little too long range with their tentacles, and the rangers were careful not to give them more arms with which to strike at them.

Then all hell broke loose.

As with one mind, all the creatures lunged at them at once.

Training and instincts took over, there was no room for thinking, just parries, ripostes, and coup de grâce.

As more creatures came, they were pushed closer together, until Jennalla’s shield was as good as tied to her chest and Lyana was forced to drop her glaive for her dagger just to be able to swing.

The numbers were letting up, but not fast enough. “On my mark.” Sylvanas said, conjuring a wildfire bomb in her hand, and hoping the others had the wherewithal to recognize her plan.

“Mark!” Cones of burning mana exploded in three directions, and the rangers slipped through the openings.

Sylvanas didn’t have a plan beyond this point, she had gotten them breathing room, but now they were scattered, all that was left to do was fight their way out or die trying

She dodged left, then right, the jumped on top of a creature’s shoulder, and punched both blades through it’s heart.

Before the creature had finished liquefying, Sylvanas was back on her own feet. As she landed she removed a creature’s arm with her sword, and jammed her dagger into the stump before it could regenerate.

She looked around to survey the fight, seeing Lyana and Jennalla each holding their own against the severely reduced number of creatures, she breathed a sigh of relief: They might against all odds, make it out alive.

And there was that moment of inattentiveness Sylvanas had warned Veline about. A tentacle wrapped itself around her torso and she was flung face first through a set of antique Azsunese plates.

Sylvanas vision blurred, her ears rang, her arms felt weighed down with lead, and she was pretty sure she had porcelain shards struck in her face.

The creature that had flung her, moved in for the kill, and time slowed to a crawl.

Sylvanas raised her arms in defense, knowing fully it wouldn’t save her.

Jennalla abandoned her own fight to rush to Sylvanas side, what remained of her shield held out in front of her. It was clear as day she wouldn’t make it.

Lyana in desperation flung her last dagger, leaving her unarmed in her own fight. Without time to aim the dagger went wide, buried to the hilt far above Sylvanas head.

Sylvanas pulled her legs close to her body, hoping to shield herself any way she could as the creature came barreling down upon her.

Suddenly the creature stopped in its’ tracks, a crossbow bolt sticking out through its chest.

Sylvanas disorientation faded as the creature melted on to the floor, revealing little Velonara Deemspring, struggling to reload a crossbow as long as she was tall.

* * *

Hot on the heels of Velonara came the rest of the defenders of Deemspring spire. In short order, and without further casualties, they rounded up and destroyed the rest of the creatures. Having secured the spire, and posted the least hurt houseguards as sentries on the lowest ring, they gathered in the public sitting room. Seeing as the private sitting room was less than hospitable after the three rangers’ last stand.

Lenara’s damage arm had to be amputated, though she didn’t seem hugely bothered as the house healer explained the pros and cons of a conjured vs. a grown replacement limb. While the rangers listened in to pass the time, Jennalla’s other mother, a light mage by trade, poured cherry wine for the three rangers. They all chose to dilute it with water, though after Sylvanas saw the bottle she felt downright criminal for doing so. Somehow they just knew they had not heard the last from Vassarin Dawnstar.

“You know, you have Velonara to thank for your rescue.” Lenara spoke, after tiring of listening to the house healer’s words.

Sylvanas nodded in agreement, as she peeled an orange just to have something to do with her hands. “If her aim is anything to go, she has a bright future among the rangers ahead of her.”

“Not just that, she was the one demanding we come to your aid while the rest of us cowered on the top floor. Much as it pains me to say it: You have done us a great deed today Windrunner.”

Sylvanas, who mere minutes ago was staring death in the face, was in no mood to analyze the political implications that may or may not be present in the Deemspring matriarch’s words. What she wanted to do was scour the countryside for Vassarin, that she could tear out his internal organs through his rectum. Or at the very least, she would like to brew a batch of viper sting, on the off chance the poison would affect the next wave of creature that inevitably would come for them.

She did subtly ask Lyana to remind her to buy Velonara a lavish, yet appropriate gift, for saving her life. Though only after everyone of house Deemspring but Jennalla had left the room.

10 minutes passed of nothing new under the sun.

Then 15.

Then 30.

At 45 minutes after their victory, Sylvanas was genuinely considering asking for brewing equipment, but didn’t for fear it would delay her from responding to the next attack.

After an hour, everyone had unstrung their bows, and there was not an unpeeled citrus left in Deemspring spire.

When the horn sounded, the whole house sprung to actions before the sentinel had finished yelling their first “Enemies at the gates!”. Sylvanas didn’t know how, but she even managed to string her bow while in full sprint.

At first they had no actual confirmation the strangers were enemies, the sentinels had merely been instructed to treat anyone approaching the spire as such. That notion was broken when the magically amplified voice of Vassarin Dawnstar rung out over the walls on to the ring where Sylvanas was standing ready: “Windrunner! You have something of mine, and I have something of yours! No more blood needs to be shed!”

Icy water ran through Sylvanas’ veins when she approached the outer gate, her bow was ready, and her fellow rangers were not far behind her. Even if the Nametaker was still in her position, she would not have handed it over as she had no doubt he would betray his word. However she needed to keep up appearances, keep him thinking he had her on the ropes for long enough to let her sever his traitorous head from his body.

It was as she feared and expected, Veline stood by the outer gate, her hands were bound in front of her, and her own knife was held against her throat. They locked eyes, Veline attempted to look away in apology, but Sylvanas kept her eyes fixed, reminding her she was not at fault.

Vassarin stood nude from the waist up, looking haggard as ever. The light of the Sunwell had left his eyes, his skin had turned a translucent shade of grey, and beneath it, his blood glowed an eldritch shade of blue. Perhaps he had always looked like this, hidden beneath layers of glamour, and clothing. At his side stood yet more of the creatures that had laid siege to Deemspring spire, though these were uninjured, and therefore had more distinctly humanoid shapes. More scholarly minds would no doubt be wondering if the creatures were conjured, or shaped by Vassarin, Sylvanas could not care less.

“I’m sure you’re smart enough to guess my offer.” Vassarin yelled across the field.

“I have a suspicion.” Sylvanas never broke her stride. “And I also suspect your offer will leave me wanting.”

“Be that as it may, it’s the offer you get, and that’s far enough ranger Windrunner.” Sylvanas begrudgingly stopped 20 steps from him and glared as Vassarin cut a thin red line into Veline’s neck. She cast her gaze to Veline then quickly averted her eyes, when she saw her trying to subtly reach into her belt pouch. She had a plan, and Sylvanas needed to keep Vassarin distracted to have it succeed.

“The Nametaker, Windrunner.” Vassarin said, unaware that he was already holding it in his hand, due to the artifact’s lack of aura.

“What about it?” Sylvanas asked innocently, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Veline reaching into her pouch, and withdrawing Sylvanas’ brooch.

“You are going to hand it over to me, THIS INSTANT, or your favorite peasant girl starts having breathing problems.” Veline made a slight throwing motion in the direction of Sylvanas, and the pieces fell into place.

“All right, all right, no reason to turn luminescent from anger.” Sylvanas made a big show of rummaging through her pouches with the hand not holding her bow, never straying far from her quiver.

Sensing Vassarin’s anger was at the tipping point, Veline set her plan in motion.

“Sylvanas! Catch!” She untangled herself from the ranger captain’s grip as best she could and threw the brooch through the air.

“Insolent fool!” Vassarin yelled, mistaking the brooch for the Nametaker.

He threw Veline to the ground and rushed forward along with his minions, hoping to snatch it out of the air.

The moment Veline touched the grass, Sylvanas struck an arrow in Vassarin’s heart, then another, and another. He was dead as dead could be before Lyana and Jennalla could even loosen their first arrows.

As Vassarin fell, and his pale blue blood stained the spring grass, the creatures at his side stopped motionlessly, as if torn from the flow of time. Veline looked on in awe as the creatures began to glow and vibrate.

The first explosion happened far away and out of sight, Veline felt the shockwave as little more than a caress. The second explosion came right next to her, she screamed in pain and terror as her arm was hit by a molten piece of flesh.

Suddenly Sylvanas was over her, using her body to shield Veline as more and more explosion rung out around them.

Veline’s face was frozen, staring up at Sylvanas’ gritting her teeth against the agony. Her ears were ringing, she could smell sulfur, and yet she was powerless. All she knew to do was look up at this beautiful, powerful woman, sheltering her from the fire even as it burned the flesh from her bones.

* * *

Sylvanas woke up listening to an ever so slightly tone-deaf but incredibly soothing tune. She didn’t open her eyes for a long time, content as she was to lie on her stomach on soft linens and savor the moment.

A cold breeze blew in over her naked back, and Sylvanas felt the gentlest sting of pain stretching all the way from her neck, across her shoulders and upper arms, down to her calves. She shuddered slightly.

“Sylvanas? Are you awake?” The brightness in Veline’s voice left her no choice but to open her eyes. There she was, that slender and bubbly peasant girl that meant so much to her. Her hair was a mess, her face covered in dirt, her dress was cheap and scorched at the edge, and yet in that moment, Sylvanas had never seen a greater beauty than the smile she send her.

The smile turned to worry when Sylvanas didn’t reply “Oh no, Sylvanas is everything okay? Should I get the healer? I should get the healer! I’m going to get the hea-”

Sylvanas smiled dreamily. “No don’t bother, I’m just basking.”

Veline took a calming breath and sat back down next to Sylvanas bedside. “Basking in what?” She asked with genuine curiosity, looking around the room as she did so.

“Your beauty.”

Veline’s ears shot straight up, and her face turned beet red. “It’s - it’s not nice to lie.” She stammered.

“Not lying.” Sylvanas tone left no doubt about the truth of her words.

“Oh… OH!”

A strange calm spread between them, Veline did not know how to progress, and Sylvanas did not want to push beyond what advances Veline desired.

“The letter never reached your mother.” Veline apologetically held up the scroll case.

“I figured as much. You shouldn’t let it haunt you, I will write her another.” Sensing Veline had more she wanted to say, Sylvanas sat up in the bed with a groan, and pulled the blanket around herself, for the sake of Veline’s modesty.

“You told me, that when I spoke to your family, I should tell them I was your handmaiden, is that how you see me?” There was no anger in Veline’s voice, only curiosity, and a tint of concern.

“No, but you needed a concise story to catch my mother’s ears, and she would not have believed I’d made friends with the common folk.

“So you see me as a friend?” Veline seemed both shocked and excited at the prospect.

“With your permission.” Sylvanas heart beat like a drum. “I would like to see you as my girlfriend.”

Veline squealed so loud, Sylvanas worried someone might come running. “I, yes, YES! I would love to be your girlfriend Sylvanas!” Veline screamed with joy, then paused, as if from fear. “Would you like to be my girlfriend as well?” She hid her face in her hands, certain she had asked too much.

Sylvanas pulled Veline’s hands away from her face. “I should like nothing more in the world.”

Veline gasped softly once more, holding on to Sylvanas hands for dear life.

“Now lady Sharpvale, might I have the honor of kissing you?”

“Yes” Veline whispered, their lips already a hair’s breadth apart.

The kiss was long, but chaste, no teeth, no tongue, no fire, just two souls gently touching through each other’s lips.

The heat of the moment became too much for Veline to handle. She lost breath, then her balance, tumbled off the chair, and hit her head against the bedside table. Sylvanas tried to grab her, but in her weakened state managed only to land herself back between the bedsheets. She made a less than dignified wail as the blanket touched the still scorched skin on her back.

Veline quickly stood back up, and helped Sylvanas to turn on to her stomach “The healer said you had to not put any pressure on the burns.”

Sylvanas smirked. “Well it’s not like anyone was expecting you to be on top.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally gonna be the end of part one, but the epilogue kinda exploded in size, so hiatus isn't for another week


	6. Feathermoon's  Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At one point this chapter was named "Time for Lireesa, said no-one ever"

Sylvanas hut was quiet and warm in the light of early noon. The mangled corpse of Anasteria Dawnstar had been returned to her family with minimal explanations almost a week ago. No signs of the struggle remained anymore, except for the lack of old dining table held together with rope. That one had given out under the weight of the Dawnstar scion’s corpse, and a replacement was yet to arrive from Silvermoon.

Hidden inside the hollow hilt of a dagger, blending in with the many other weapons on display sat the amulet which had caused so much suffering, the turqouise amber at its’ heart ever so slowly fusing shut once more. Very few people knew what had happened to it after the battle of Deemspring Spire, only two knew of its current resting place.

Pushed together on the small couch, mere steps away from the much roomier bed, lay two elves. They were resting after finishing the day’s work, the shorter brunette fitting snug and safe into the arms of the taller blonde, who was at long last allowed to put weight on her back again.

Truth be told, Sylvanas felt guilty for spending her afternoon cuddling, while she was well enough to walk. Lyana and Jennalla had been rushing tirelessly between all five villages of the Aurendar lodge, rescuing kittens and reclaiming stolen goods at a pace that didn’t leave them time to sleep in their own beds most nights. Eaglepass village was in especially bad shape, having been without ranger for over two months. The villagers had been fighting a losing battle against a rampaging flock of hawkstriders, buildings had caught fire because of the fighting more than once.

The entire affair regarding Mae’Thelin Sunstriker’s demise was as concerning as it was strange. It was as if his entire existence had been torn from the pages of history; no records existed of him, none of the villagers in Eaglepass could remember their last ranger, even house Sunstriker claimed to have no one of that named. Had it not been for a stray letter from his fathers reaching Sylvanas and asking similar questions, she would have thought hers was the memory that had been altered by the Nametaker.

Guilty as Sylvanas felt while there were mysteries to be solved, and feral hawkstriders to be fought, no force in Azeroth could drag a sleepy Sylvanas off the couch while she was sharing it Veline. She fit so perfectly in Sylvanas’ arms, the sound of the rain gently leading her to the realm of dreams, with Sylvanas trailing not far behind. Even Sylvanas’ wounds had dulled, as if her body had bid them quiet that she could better enjoy the feel of Veline’s heartbeat against her skin.

All her life, Sylvanas had been certain of one thing, she would gladly lay down her life in defense of Quel’Thalas. Now she understood why; because of Veline Sharpvale. This beautiful and clever woman, who seemed so fragile, yet had endured so much. With her life on the line, she had outwitted an elf who had cheated all the courts of Silvermoon for centuries by using his obsession against him. Sylvanas was in love, not like all those other women before Veline, Sylvanas heart had been bound to Veline, and if that thread was ever broken… Sylvanas dared not even think about it.

Sylvanas was in love, even as she had Veline in her arms, Sylvanas was still yearning for her, as if she would never be complete until their two hearts fused into one.

Sylvanas was in love, but it would take her a long time to admit it.

When Sylvanas awoke, the rain had stopped, and Veline was doing that adorable little fidget Sylvanas was starting to learn meant she had something on her mind. She pressed a soft kiss to the very tip of Veline’s ear. “Yes dearest, is there something you want to say?”

Veline tried and failed to hide her blush beneath the blanket. she was still getting used to physical affection. “Is it weird?”

“Is what weird?” Sylvanas asked, feeling a bit of her old bemused tone return.

“That I’ve never, you know, had sex? I’m fully grown and live alone; it feels like a stream I should have crossed long ago.”

Once upon a time, Sylvanas would have jumped at the chance to flirtatiously tell Veline how quickly that could change. “In my experience, it is not the norm, but that does not make it wrong. What’s important is that sex is not some hurdle to clear on the way to adulthood, it’s a pleasurable experience people can share with each other.”

“It’s just… I wish I could do something to practice, if only there were some books I could read or some such.”

Sylvanas turned her around to face her, wiped a stray hair to the side, and tenderly kissed her lips. “What makes you say that.”

“You have all these experiences and past lovers, and I’ll just be fumbling around, no doubt making a complete fool of myself.”

“Dearest Starlight, if and when we choose to have sex, I won’t mind taking charge, both the first time, and however many times after you so desire. I’ve told you as much before, is that really what has you crumbling the blanket.”

Veline blushed from ear to ear. “N-No, you being so close has just made me bulge and I’m trying not to draw attention to it.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Sylvanas said, petting her head the way Veline had told her she liked.

“It’s stupid.”

“Well the last time you told me that, you and your mother had been without roof over your head for five weeks, so you can understand my skepticism.” In the back of her head, Sylvanas worried she was pushing too hard for an answer, and promised herself that if Veline avoided the question once more, she would let it rest.

“I want it to be special. I know I’m not giving up the innocence of my soul, and that it won’t forever change me, or whatever else priests on their fourth millennia say. But it has taken me so long to feel even almost ready, and I just, want it to feel special… See I told you it was stupid.”

“In what way would you like it to feel special Heartblossom?”

Veline stared intently at a spot on the wall behind Sylvanas as she thought. “Like in the books: Scented candles, fresh linens, enchanted violins playing as you carry me to bed, drinking floral tea and watching the rain in the afterglow.”

Sylvanas smiled. “I can promise you everything but the rain, for that we will just have to get lucky.”

* * *

Hearing a horse galloping up the road to her hut, Sylvanas jumped out of bed and grabbed her bow. When she saw it was Alleria, riding as if 50 Amani warbears were on her tail, Sylvanas became truly worried, and rushed out to meet her.

“Mother is on the warpath. She brings Dar’Khan Drathir. Get dressed and await them in Fairbreeze. I’ll hold them off as long as I can!” Without further ado, Alleria turned her horse around, rushing back the way she came.

This was bad, very bad! Sylvanas hair was a mess, her face was marked by scars she hadn’t yet had healed, and her new cloak was still being woven. Each of those things would spell disaster on their own, but all combined, and with Dar’Khan Drathir no doubt having learned she killed his brother and eldest child…

Well Veline had mentioned the repairs on her roof had sprung a leak, and Sylvanas would have plenty of time to fix it once she was stripped of all titles.

It was a sound like thunder when three groups of riders fell upon Fairbreeze Village like some sort of political cavalry charge, tripling if not quadrupling the village’s population. To the right and at the front was a sea of green and gold, spearheaded by Lireesa, her Sword Elina Dawnstrike, her Spear Lor’Themar Theron, and Alleria representing the Farstriders, everyone in full dress uniforms. To the left was an almost equally as large group carrying the dark blue and white shooting star banners of house Dawnstar, led by Dar’Khan Drathir, his signature wide brimmed hat sticking to his head against the wind by magic alone. Between the two, rode a much smaller group consisting of spellbreakers in blue and gold, a tense Grand Magister Salonar and his houseguard, all clearly brought along as a bulwark against a civil war.

The left and right group fanned out to encircle the village, trampling wheat, tulips and wildflowers without remorse. Sylvanas stood in the center of the village, wearing the most formal clean clothes she could find on short notice and projecting the facade of fearlessness. Lireesa rode forward followed by Salonar, Drathir, and all their retinues, forcing the villagers who had looked on in awe to jump for their lives. The spellbreakers, having dismounted while the houseguards fanned out, took positions in a semi-circle behind Sylvanas, shield and spears raised against her.

Lireesa and Dar’Khan glared at each other from atop their respective horses, silently battling over the right to level charges against Sylvanas. When they failed to reach an agreement, Belo’Vir Salonar spoke, his voice low but needing no aid in being heard: “Ranger Sylvanas Alanassori Driana'Coria Tyrande Oromë of House Windrunner. Guardian of Fairbreeze Village by the grace of Ranger Lord Areiel Feathermoon. You stand accused of the murder of Ranger Anasteria Maligosa Númenor of house Dawnstar, how do you plead?”

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow, then quickly schooled her features. They were leaving out Vassarin from the accusations, no doubt hoping to divorce it from circumstance, but her mother wouldn’t just let them get away with that? Would she? Alleria had said she was on the warpath but surely there were limits. If there was a plan to absolve her of guilt, Sylvanas couldn’t determine it yet.

“How do you plead?” The grand magister repeated, his voice completely neutral.

“Honored convocants, as I wrote in my letter to the ranger general, I did not murder Anasteria Dawnstar. I killed her in self-defense after ranger captain Vassarin Dawnstar ordered me assassinated by her hand.”

“The life and death of your ranger captain is still being investigated, do not derail your interrogation!” How Dar’Khan managed to keep his voice both silky smooth and angrily indignant was a wonder to Sylvanas. She also had to resist her urge to point out how different her interrogation was from the way they were normally conducted. If three of the seven convocants of Silvermoon felt it was an appropriate interrogation, then unless the other four manifested to disagree with them, it was.

“Very well then. Apropos of nothing, ranger Anasteria Dawnstar appeared in my home dressed in arms and armor, while I slept. She attempted to kill me in my sleep, I awoke, overpowered her, but was forced to kill her to save myself.”

Salonar raised an eyebrow at her. “So you somehow managed to not only hear a ranger sneak up on you, but also defeat her while she was dressed for combat and you were not?”

“With all due respect grand magister, have you ever walked across hardwood floors wearing greaves and sabatons? It sounds like a marching drum, and without meaning to insult ranger lord Hawkspear’s training, I suspect her inexperience made her not realize this ahead of time.”

“Do you have any witness to back up your version of the story?” Dar’Khan asked so smugly Sylvanas promised herself she would get to punch him at least once in her life.

“I unfortunately do not, as I’m told part of the purpose of a nighttime assassination is to find the target alone and without any witnesses.”

Finally, her mother joined in, Sylvanas relief however was short lived. “There is of course another explanation: You clearly believed ranger Dawnstar to be involved in whatever plot brought an end to your captain, you also have a history of violent encounters with other nobles, and it’s no secret you are also a rather accomplished seducer. Perhaps you lured her to your home, asked her about her allegiance, and when you found it not to your liking, you lost your temper and killed her.”

Growing up Sylvanas had wanted to strangle her mother many, many times. In that moment, Sylvanas was a hair’s breadth from letting action follow words. This was her plan? To force her back to the courts by having her declared unfit for the ranger corps. She knew she had to control her temper, could see Alleria pleading with her eyes, but Sylvanas blood was at a boil from the betrayal.

“YOU!” She yelled, pointing her finger at her mother, while the spellbreakers moved closer to her. “All of you! You all know my fights are different from so many other high-noble scions, only in that my house acknowledges them! You are all well aware what captain Dawnstar did, I would wager better than me in fact. Yet here you are playing at a trial when you have already decided the sentence, all for the sake of-”

“Enough!” Dar’Khan’s voice thundered with magic empowerment. He led his horse towards Sylvanas, and every bow of the Windrunner houseguard tightened, moments later the Dawnstar houseguard followed suit. Dar’Khan relented, and on a sign from Lireesa, the Windrunner, then the Dawnstar bows went slack.

“Will that be all Sylvanas?” Lireesa said glaring down at Sylvanas from her horse.

Sylvanas wanted to say no, wanted to have some last great ploy up her sleeve before she was put under house arrest in Windrunner spire. She had something, she knew of her mother’s aim for the throne, it wouldn’t be victory, only mutual destruction. She could bring it up, disguise it as angry yelling, add in just enough key facts that Salonar and Drathir would be unable to contain their curiousity, and just like that a millennia and a half of scheming would have failed.

Sylvanas opened her mouth, but made the mistake of looking at her mother, and faltered. No words would come out, only forced, whimpered, gasps. Sylvanas was afraid, whatever punishment she had faced in the past would be nothing, compared to what her mother would do if Sylvanas ruined her life’s work. Sylvanas was tired, and hurt, and afraid, and broken, and she just wanted to go home to her hut and cry.

All her work, all her fights, and all the times she nearly died, and this was how her mother thanked her? By taking away Fairbreeze and her future with Veline.

Lireesa, Dar’Khan and Belo’Vir drove elder Cinderbloom from her home to discuss Sylvanas’ sentence with their retinues. Sylvanas was sitting cross legged on the ground staring at the grass were the convocants had left her. The villagers were cautiously starting to move outside their homes again, a few even tried bringing Sylvanas dried fruits and nuts, only to be chased off by the spellbreakers.

“Strangers approaching from the west!” One of the houseguards called out, and suddenly the whole village came alive; house guards rushing for their weapons and villagers rushing to the safety of their houses. Sylvanas jumped to her feet, thanking her height for letting her see over the circle of spellbreakers surrounding her.

Unlike the houseguard who had first spotted the riders, Sylvanas recognized the three-pointed star of house Feathermoon. The houseguards assumed battle positions, and the riders in purple and silver showed no interest in slowing down. Sylvanas didn’t think it was her place to tell them the riders were in all likelihood friendly.

Lireesa came out to investigate what was happening, but when Lor’Themar rode to ask for her orders, she simply told him to wait. Whatever would happen, it would be the newcomers who made the first move.

The Feathermoon houseguards stopped a lance-length from the Windrunner/Dawnstar line. There was a loud, feline roar, and a great cat leapt over the lines. This was Ash’Vara, one of the last nightsabers in Quel’Thalas, and upon her back sat ranger lord Areiel Hawkspear.

The ranger lord was every bit as tall as Sylvanas, and had the purple glow to their skin of someone who had taken to the Sunwell later in life, rather than being born into it. They dismounted the great beast with the grace of several millenniums’ practice and strode unfettered towards the assembled convocants, Ash’Vara trailing not far behind. Their heavy armor clattered melodically as they walked, most of it was of distinct Darnassian make, maintained flawlessly throughout the ages.

As they neared the assembled convocants, Areiel pulled aside their cape, revealing the sentinel’s glaive they had carried since their time serving under Tyrande Whisperwind. A display of seniority if not by rank then by age, as was apparent to anyone but Lireesa’s guardian and second in command. Elina and Lor’Themar drew their weapons and placed it in the ranger lord’s path. Looking straight into Lor’Themar’s eyes, Areiel spoke with a voice conveying both disdain and disinterest. “Lower that spear boy, it doesn’t belong to you.” And gestured to Oathbinder, the weapon lent to him by Lireesa as a symbol of office.

Lireesa nonchalantly pushed past her Sword and Spear, to stand face to chin with the lord of the Goldenbough conclave, whom Sylvanas was coming to realize was called the mountain lord for more than one reason. “Oathbinder is the property of house Windrunner, and we have elected to lent it to the boy for as long as he serves as my Spear.” Lireesa, spoke calmly, but Sylvanas could tell her anger was boiling beaneath the surface.

“Oathbinder was given to me by Talanas, and your grandparents stole it.” Areiel sent Lireesa a death glare of the kind Sylvanas was usually on the receiving end.

“Please tell me you have not come here, just discuss that thrice damned spear Areiel.”

Areiel smiled. “No, I’m here because you seem to mistakenly be putting one of my captains on trial for actions she was well within her right to take.”

Dar’Khan burst into the conversation. “We are not discussing the actions of my brother today.”

Areiel smile broadened. “You are right, we are not, except insofar as they conspired to making Sylvanas Windrunner his replacement.”

“I beg your pardon?” Dar’Khan and Lireesa asked with one voice.

With a flourish, Areiel withdrew a letter from Ash’Vara’s saddlebag. “Sylvanas first reached out to me after her and ranger Cinderbloom’s encounter at Amberlight river. After confirming her suspicions that there was something amiss regarding Vassarin’s response to the incident, I granted her a writ to assume leadership of the lodge should damning evidence of the ranger captain surface. She has been acting ranger captain for the last week, including the time of your daughter’s death convocant Dawnstar-Drathir. We simply chose to delay the ceremony to allow Sylvanas time to recover from her ordeal at Deemspring spire.” The entire story was a boldfaced lie, but one that was supported by a writ signed and sealed by a ranger lord.

“And how does that absolve her of the murder of Anasteria?” Dar’Khan’s normally calm and distinguished exterior was showing its’ cracks.

Lireesa groaned, having realized what was happening from her superior knowledge of ranger laws. “The Falconwing decree: Captains are allowed to execute the elves under their command, if they are found to be a credible and immediate threat to the safety of Quel’Thalas. Unless you have evidence to suggest captain Windrunner knowingly abused this power, the law dictates the investigation be placed solely in the hands of the ranger corps.” Lireesa was only fuming slightly less than her Dawnstar counterpart as she reached the end of her explanation.

The houseguards and retinues packed up and left in the same rush they had arrived in. Sylvanas smiled victoriously as best she could with tears still drying below her eyes, as Lireesa made to ride off in defeat.

“Thank you for the rescue, but might I ask, why did you do it?” Sylvanas said, turning to Areiel Feathermoon who was preparing to leave at a much more languid pace.

The ranger lord stopped ascending the great cat, and turned to face Sylvanas. “Do you know why they call me the mountain lord?”

“Your height? Your strength? The fact that you govern from a spire atop the Sunfeather mountains?” None of those were exactly wrong answers, they just weren’t the main reason, which Sylvanas thought best to not bring up, lest she insult her rescuer.

“Because I’m swift as the mountains, come now, let us not pretend this is news to you.”

Sylvanas was speechless, or perhaps the days exhaustion had finally caught up to her. Areiel just grinned and ruffled her hair.

Their face turned serious once more. “Listen, It’s no secret I’m not the swiftquiver I once was. I can’t smell trouble brewing two conclaves over anymore, and truth be told I was always a better captain than I was lord. Arriving too late to be useful has become the norm for me, so when Lenara told me of your actions at Deemspring spire, I knew you were too valuable to lose to the schemes of Silvermoon.”

“So… You pulled me from the fire out of duty to the Goldenbough Conclave?” Sylvanas asked, unused as she was to receiving compliments from authority figures.

“No, I did it because you’re a great ranger, and the Aurendar lodge will be lucky to have you leading it. Though if you do ever get the chance to return the Oathbinder I certainly wouldn’t mind - Lady Windrunner, are you crying?”

“No! My eyes are taking a piss!” Sylvanas said, crying her heart out.

* * *

“Wow, this place cleaned up really well.” Veline said, standing in the newly renovated entryway to the Aurendar lodge, her mouth sitting slightly open as she took in all the fresh woodwork and marble.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, just wait until I get the mosaic installed.” Sylvanas made a sweeping gesture towards the skylight soon to be replaced with the Windrunner coat of arms.

“There’s gonna be a mosaic?!” Veline could scant believe her ears; Sylvanas had already had the lodge stripped down to the bones, and rebuild anew, to think there was more to come. Veline couldn’t even imagine somebody having all that money.

“And a mural of Tyrande fighting Azshara, and a flower garden which I was hoping you might help me tend to.” As she spoke, Sylvanas led Veline further into the lodge, relishing her excitement at every new reveal. Gradually, Veline even gathered the courage to bring up a few suggestions of her own.

Having shown Veline every other part of the house from the dining hall, to the kitchen and the archery range, they stopped in front of the bedroom door, and Sylvanas turned to Veline with gentle and understanding eyes. “I want to tell you before we go further, that it is never too late to back out, and doing so won’t make me care for you any less.”

Veline put her arms on top of Sylvanas’ shoulders, Sylvanas automatically wrapped her arms around her waist. Together they moved in to tenderly kiss each other on the lips. “Okay. But right now, I really want to do this with you.” She said, smiling lovestruck at Sylvanas.

Sylvanas pushed open the door to reveal the bedroom that lay beyond. While the rest of the house was bathed in light, the bedroom was shrouded by an oddly warming darkness (and a spell keeping sounds contained within). The walls were painted an abstract pattern in emerald and gold, the ceiling was enchanted to mimic the night sky at all hours of the day, and the circular bed was big enough to comfortably fit six or seven elves. The first thing Veline remarked upon however was. “Did you get me scented candles?”

Sylvanas couldn’t keep the sappy smile off her face. “Yes, Lilly and Hawthorn. The linens were also washed only an hour ago and-” Sylvanas snapped her fingers, causing an enchanted violin to spring to life and begin playing a subtle tune.

Veline’s eyes grew big as teacups. “Wow, you’ve really thought of everything huh?”

Sylvanas winced. “Is it too much?”

“What? No! It’s perfect, better than I’ve ever dreamed about.”

Wiping sweat off her brow, Sylvanas proceeded to lock the door, and place her satchel against it. “I also got us teas: chrysanthemum, rosebud, and for something more familiar: chamomile. I hope one of them is to your liking.” She said, and withdrew three bags of the finest tea money could buy, presenting each of them to Veline in turn.

Veline meanwhile, was nearly vibrating on the spot. “Sylvanas I love it, I really do, but if you don’t get me out of my dress within the next 10 seconds, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.”

Those words were all too familiar to Sylvanas, yet now they felt completely different. “Well I believe there is only one thing missing lady Sharpvale.” Sylvanas said, and scooped a squealing Veline into her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... That's all for now folks ;_;
> 
> The fic will be going on a moderate hiatus while i write part 2, which will be somewhere in the ballpark of 40k words, though I imagine I won't be able to keep myself from posting snippets and shortfics from this AU in the meantime.
> 
> Huge shoutout to my beta readers [Grimpotato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimpotato) and [Empress37](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empress37) they're both great and you should go read their stuff!
> 
> And without meaning to sound like a youtuber but: thanks to everyone whose been reading along and commenting or sending me dms about this fic, I write this for you guys <3

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr @Offbrand_Valk


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